


After Everything

by Ragnar__Danneskjold, SweetSinger2010



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragnar__Danneskjold/pseuds/Ragnar__Danneskjold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSinger2010/pseuds/SweetSinger2010
Summary: After five years apart, Sabine and Ezra have a life to build together. Series of connected ficlets.





	1. Let's Go Home

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this little series on fanfiction.net and decided to start posting here as well, in case there are any Ezrabine fans hanging out. I'll post a couple at a time over a few days to catch myself up. Now, this first one was written right before I watched the finale (I had seen spoilers), so it doesn't jive with canon and I know that. Just suspend disbelief with me and enjoy some fluff!

Let’s Go Home

The mission had been to stay with Hera, support her through her pregnancy and Jacen’s infancy. The secondary objective had been to fight the war. Win.

That was done now.

Sabine no sooner heard official confirmation of Palpatine’s death than she set off in earnest looking for Ezra. And she was going to strangle him when she found him, if she didn’t kiss him first; he’d left her a trail of galactic breadcrumbs that had taken every bit of her mental acuity to follow.

But follow she did. And she found him. On Tatooine.

Kriffing— _Tatooine._

She had half a mind to chew him out for that first thing. Did he have _any_ idea what the blowing sand was going to do to the new finish on her armor? Never mind the _Gauntlet._

Those were the nervous thoughts she distracted herself with as she sat in some Mos Espa bar, waiting and hoping and trusting that he’d find her there. She was on her second glass of she-didn’t-know-what when the skin on the back of her neck prickled and she turned to look at the door, and there he was: tall and tanned and handsome and wiser than she remembered.

His thousand-watt grin lit the room.

He ambled toward her, almost nonchalant, but she still knew him so well and she knew that it was taking every ounce of control he had to keep from _running_ toward her; the same kind of control it was taking for her not to do the same. He sat at the bar right next to her, lounging lazily in the seat. She gave him a reserved, coquettish smile, but her insides were quivering, like maybe she was about to cry.

He cleared his throat, looking her once-over. “You changed your hair.”

She shrugged, running a hand over the close crop, trying to act like the sound of his voice hadn’t just sent a thrill shooting through every nerve in her body. “I got bored without you around to kark things up.”

“Awww.” He exaggerated the syllable playfully, but he leaned forward in his seat and his eyebrows drew together, eyes turning suddenly earnest. “Sabine Wren.” There was a quaver in his voice as he said her name. “Are you saying you missed me?”

He was setting her up for banter and— _Force_ , how she’d missed this spark and repartee between them—but she just couldn’t take the bait. She nodded, blinking rapidly as tears pooled and she slid off her stool so she could throw her arms around him. She buried her face in his chest for a long moment, just breathing him in. “Yes,” she said thickly as she finally pulled away. “But _this_ —” She stopped, stroking the goatee on his chin. “I will _not_ miss. It has to go, Ezra. Immediately.”

He rolled his eyes—which were red and teary now—and pretended to take offense. “The first time I see you in like five years and you’re insulting me? Give me one good reason—”

She huffed, punching his shoulder. “Because I’ll never kiss you until you do.”

“Wh—” He gaped at her, then a slow grin started. “You’re—serious?”

“So serious.” She looped her arm in his and pulled him toward the door. “Let’s go home.”

Squinting in the afternoon glare as he looked at Sabine, Ezra asked hesitantly, “Where _is_ home for you now? Krownest?”

She stopped in the middle of Tatooine’s blowing dirt and scorching heat and looked up at him with a smile that put the twin suns to shame. “Lothal,” she said softly. His eyebrows raised in surprise. She thought of the planet and how much it had changed and flourished in the Empire’s absence, and she thought of the time she’d spent patiently waiting to share it with him. “You’re going to love it, Ezra.”


	2. You

You

The inside of the tower was unrecognizable from what it had been ten years ago. The once-dilapidated space was no longer his. It was fresher, brighter, homier.

It was Sabine’s.

He didn’t mind.

He stood in the middle of the living area, turning in circles as he took it all in. His eyes roamed every detail appreciatively, right down to Sabine sitting in the far corner of the room watching _him_.

She smiled. “You’ve been standing there for half an hour. Go outside. The stars—”

“I’ve seen enough stars,” he said distantly. He thought of the Purrgil, of the Destroyer and Thrawn, of the strange planets and countless nights spent under strange stars. “Lothal’s can wait.”

“For?” She reached as if to tuck her hair behind her ear—a gesture almost shy and self-conscious. But her fingers brushed nothing but skin and she traced the line of her jaw; her hair was too short. Ezra grinned at her and she blushed.

“You,” he said. He walked over and sat beside her on the floor-cushion. He purposefully kept some space between them, unsure of what she wanted; when she scooted over to loop her arm through his, it gave him the resolve he needed to say what he so desperately wanted to say. “I’ve had five years of stars and just a couple of days with you. The stars aren’t really what I’m interested in right now.”

She arched an eyebrow. “So what _are_ you interested in?”

He considered. “You,” he said again at last. She nodded, and he noticed her eyes were lingering on his mouth.

“Do you know,” she whispered, “how many times I thought about that moment in the dome when I knew you were surrendering to Thrawn—how I let you go, and how I wanted to punch you in the teeth for putting me in that position?” She drew close, brushing her lips against his.

His heart was thundering. “A lot?”

“A lot.” She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t kiss him, either, and it was absolutely maddening.

“I’m sorry.” He was, too. He leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth. She made a soft sound, resting her hand on the back of his neck.

“I’ll need a nicer apology than that, Ezra Bridger.”

He grinned, using a hand on her waist to lay her back against the cushions. Her eyes were wide and curious as he hovered over her. “Sabine,” he said seriously. “I’m sorry.” He kissed her quickly, not even giving her enough time to kiss him back before he pulled away. “I’m sorry I left like that.”

He could tell by her breathing that she probably wouldn’t mind if he kissed her again, say, on the exposed skin of her collarbone, but her eyes were conflicted, so he didn’t. “I didn’t know if you’d lived or died,” she said quietly, brows drawing together.

“I know.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry.” He shifted so that he was laying beside her instead of on top of her.

“Just—hold me,” she said. It was the closest to vulnerable he’d ever heard her sound. He pulled her into his arms immediately. He rested his chin on her head and she was still for long enough he thought she might have fallen asleep. He decided to speak anyway.

“There’s something I wanted to say.” He paused. “Years ago, really.”

“What’s that?” Her voice was muffled as she spoke against his shoulder; not asleep, then. He swallowed hard.

_“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”_

She inhaled sharply. “What?”

He panicked. Of _course_ he’d managed to kriff that up. “I said—I _thought_ I said—”

She sat up, looking down into his face. Her expression was unreadable and her lips trembling. “I know what you said,” she interrupted breathlessly.

“Oh.” Profound disappointment flooded his face; he could feel it in the dark flush creeping up his neck. “I—”

Her mouth was on his in an instant, kissing him so tenderly it _hurt_ and when she put a hand on his chest to push away, her amber eyes were full of everything he’d ever wanted to see, and that was enough to atone for the last five years of not being with her. She nodded and then murmured against his jaw, “I love you, too.”


	3. Blue

Blue

Ezra looked down at the cylinder in his hands. It felt good to have his saber back. Its fit and weight in his grip were exactly the same as he remembered. He could hear and feel the crystal inside, humming pleasantly in the back of his mind. Still, he frowned. He didn’t remember anything about _painting the hilt._

“Sabine,” he said, walking into the ‘fresher without so much as a knock. “What’s this?”

The shower door opened and she popped her head out. “Wha—oh.” Shampoo started to slide down her forehead and she swiped it away, eyeing the lightsaber. “Um.” She ducked back in the shower, though she left the door open a crack; in the mirror, Ezra could clearly see the curve of her neck and shoulders as she tipped her head back under the water to rinse the shampoo out. He forced himself to focus. She leaned back out—an arm this time, too—and pointed to the lightsaber, dripping water all over the floor. “It was an experimental thing. I was…kind of blue.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He glanced down at his lightsaber hilt again. Once dark, it was now several different colors of ethereal blue, slightly shimmering. It reminded him of a hyperspace lane.

“To be fair,” she mumbled, “I had no way of knowing whether you’d be needing it again.” She barely met his gaze as she ducked back into the shower, closing the door this time.

Ezra sighed. They hadn’t talked much yet about the expanse of time that had passed in separation, and that was fine. He was certainly happy with here and now. But he could sense her hesitancy and the unconscious wall that went up when they did start to touch on it. When he’d showed her the lightsaber, her eyes had become immediately guarded. He hadn’t seen that look in them since the day she picked up the darksaber for training. Back then, she’d been hiding a world of pain.

“Sabine.”

“Hmm?” The shower door stayed closed. The sound of the water didn’t change any; it hit the floor steadily, as if she was standing motionless under the stream.

“What’s up?”

Silence. He didn’t have to see her to know she was debating with herself over how much of the truth to tell him. “I—I woke up around—I don’t know, zero three hundred? I was cold.”

“Okay.” He patiently waited for the rest.

“So, I reached over to yank the blanket back from you.”

Ah. Ezra rubbed the back of his neck. “And I was gone.”

The air started to get thick with steam. She’d turned the shower from hot to scalding. “And you were gone.”

What happened was he’d woken up cold, too. He’d crawled out of bed to find his shirt and put it on, and then decided to go look at the stars for a second; there were often meteor showers this time of year. He hadn’t been gone long—maybe ten, fifteen minutes. Then he’d gone back to bed and Sabine had immediately curled her body into his, hissing her dissatisfaction when she felt his cold feet against hers. He’d chuckled, kissed her, gone back to sleep. Never once did it occur to him that she’d wake up in his absence and find fear and emptiness in the space where he should have been.

He looked at the saber in his hands, turning it over, tracing the colors tenderly. Blue. She’d painted what she’d felt—was it still hanging on?

“I’m not going anywhere, Sabine.” He drew a long breath. “I’m here.”

The water shut off and the shower cracked open. She leaned her head on the wall, looking at him with a weary expression. “I know. I just—” She shook her head, and he saw the wall come up.

“I know.” He half-smiled at her as he held up his saber again. “I—I like the blue.”

She stared hard at him for a long moment, and then reached for her towel, disappearing behind the door as she wrapped in it. She finally stepped out and Ezra could see her skin had raised, red patches where the water had been too hot. She stepped toward him, seeming not to care that water was dripping down her legs and puddling at her feet. She tapped a finger on the lightsaber and gave a short sigh. “Well, I don’t.” She shook her head, making a face. “I don’t want to talk about the blue.”

He tilted his head, trying to read her. “What else?”

Her brows raised, like she was surprised he knew there was more beneath the surface. “I don’t—I never was—I’ve always been _fine_ by myself.” If he squinted a little, it was because he had no idea what she was getting at. She knew it, and sighed, aggravated with herself. “I’m not _fine_ by myself anymore, Ezra.”

“Hey.” He lifted her chin. “Do you need to be?”

She glanced away, face flushing dark. “You got me all inside out,” she said harshly. It was a cover, he knew. “I’d gotten used to thinking I’d never—get to be this close to you.”

He’d thought it odd—not unwelcome, but odd—that’d she’d stayed so close to him, held his hand as many times as she had, slept practically in his skin with him in the few days they’d been together here on Lothal. He understood now—she didn’t trust this second chance they’d been given.

He placed his hands on her bare shoulders. Most of the water had evaporated, but her skin was still damp and warm; she shivered when he touched her. Then he wrapped his arms around her completely and she buried her face in his chest. “This is real,” he said, throat thick. “I’m not gonna leave you alone again.”

She didn’t say anything, but she held tightly to him until he could no longer feel where he stopped and she began.  


	4. Surprises

Surprises

It had been about a week since she found him.

“Did Hera know what you were up to,” Ezra asked as the _Gauntlet_ hurtled toward the Core. “looking for me?”

“Of course she knew,” Sabine scoffed. “I promised her I’d get you back.”

He wondered for a moment what it must have been like for Hera and Sabine—watching him disappear without a trace just days after Kanan died. If the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have handled it well, he was sure.

“I had faith you were okay,” Sabine said, as if she could read his mind. “And Hera had other things to worry about. I watched her just kind of…square her shoulders and decide you were okay, because that’s what she had to do.” She paused. “I didn’t tell her how close I was to finding you in case—in case you decided to be an idiot and string me along for the chase. And,” she added, batting her eyelashes coquettishly, “I wanted you to myself for a few days.”

Ezra grinned. “I can’t argue with that.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the co-pilot’s sea and she sat in his lap, legs draped over him comfortably, arm around his shoulders like they’d been together this way for years. “How is she?” He asked after a silence.

“Hera?” Sabine sighed reflectively. “Better than you ever could have hoped for after that night. But I think she’ll want to tell you about it herself.”

Ezra wondered at the comment, but didn’t try to decrypt it. He shook his head. “You should have told her we’re coming. Hera hates surprises.”

Sabine kissed his temple and, in that momentary contact, he could feel all her excitement and joy. “I think she’ll forgive us just this once.”

* * *

 Sabine set the _Gauntlet_ down in the hangar right next to the _Ghost._ For a moment, all Ezra could do was stare at the VCX, the ship that had been his home. The ship where he’d found a family.

“Ready?”

He started at the sound of Sabine’s voice. “Y-yeah.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Yeah.”

They walked hand-in-hand from the _Gauntlet_ to the _Ghost_ , striding up the ramp as if they’d never been gone a day. “Hera?” Sabine called. Ezra’s heart raced in excited anticipation, expecting to hear the Twi’lek answer.

Instead, he heard a child’s elated shriek.

 _“Bean!”_ A green-headed blur of a figure streaked down the ladder and barreled straight toward Sabine. She caught him easily in her grasp and swung him up on her hip. “I _knew_ you were coming soon!” The child was clearly enamored with Sabine; it showed in his brilliant blue eyes.

“You did, huh?” She grinned, hugging him close. “How?”

He put his small hands on her cheeks and whispered, “I just know things.”

Sabine made a popping sound with her lips and whispered to match his conspiratorial tone. “Well—do you know who I brought with me?”

The boy froze, looking at Ezra for the first time. “Spectre Six,” he said in awe. “No _way._ ”

Ezra just stared, open-mouthed. “Sabine?” The child—small, maybe four or five—in her arms had the shape of Hera’s eyes framed by Kanan’s brows. The little one lunged for him, and Ezra took him, hardly knowing what was happening.

“This is gonna make mama’s _day._ ”

“Ezra,” Sabine started, “meet Spectre Seven—”

“Jacen Syndulla,” a melodic voice finished. “My son.”

Ezra spun on his heel and the sight of Hera, the woman who had quietly mothered and loved him, put unashamed tears in his eyes.

Hera looked shaken herself as she climbed down the ladder and approached him with her chin held high. “What you _did_ ,” she said, swiping her eyes, “was grossly insubordinate and if I wasn’t so happy to see you, I’d throw you in the brig.”

Ezra choked on a laugh. “If you were gonna do that, you’d have done it after I crashed the _Phantom._ ”

Jacen gasped in ghoulish glee. “ _You_ crashed the—”

Hera put a finger to his lips, and he wiggled into her arms. “Ezra.” She whispered. “Ezra.”

He hugged her then, her and Jacen both, overcome with joy and shock and just the barest trace of grief—he wished he hadn’t missed all this.

Hera cleared her throat. “You two should have told me,” she rebuked wanly. Her voice was rough.

Sabine smiled sweetly. “We know how you love surprises.”

“Well.” She turned on her heel, Jacen still on her hip. “How about you come and _surprise_ me with an explanation.”

Ezra and Sabine followed her, hand in hand again, and Ezra released the last breath he’d been holding since that day on Lothal.

* * *

 Ezra woke up sometime after midnight, sleeping in Zeb’s old bunk, to a soft but persistent tapping on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and found himself looking into Kanan’s blue eyes.

“Ezra,” Jacen whispered, yawning. “Can you tell me stories about my papa?” His face shone with hopefulness. “Mama and Bean always said you could.”

Ezra froze for a second—he hadn’t talked about Kanan in years. But he couldn’t think of a better way to start again than by telling this small boy about the father who would have surely loved him so much.

“First of all,” he said, sliding into the floor next to Jacen, “is that Ka—your papa always knew what kinds of things to _tell_ your mom, and what kinds of things to _not_ tell your mom.”

Jacen’s eyes narrowed as he unpacked that statement. “Why would I _ever_ snitch on myself for being up after bedtime?” He asked shrewdly after a moment.

Ezra grinned.


	5. Some Sads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not saying I forgot to update......but, I forgot to update. So here--have a few chapters at once!

Some Sads

When Sabine woke up by herself, she was briefly disoriented, but not panicked; she remembered Ezra leaning over, whispering in her ear, telling her he was going to the _Ghost._ She remembered sleepily acknowledging that, and she remembered it had been at some unholy hour. She reached for her chrono on the nightstand and tapped the display. It was six fifteen now. She groaned, rolling out of bed. She went to the ‘fresher and did the bare minimum she needed in order to look presentable. She shuffled through the living area—they were staying in Hera and Jacen’s apartment—and headed straight toward the kitchen and caf. She saw Jacen sitting at the table, eyes wide and blinking.

“I hoped someone would get up soon,” he said.

“It’s still practically nighttime, _ad’ika_ ,” she answered, squinting in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“It’s almost _seven_ ,” he scoffed, “and I’m _hungry_.”

She sighed. “Toast?”

“Toast. And caf-milk,” he wheedled. Caf-milk was a concoction of Sabine’s own making: three-fourths milk, and one-fourth caf, generously sweetened. Hera had about died when she’d seen her three-year-old drinking the stuff—she’d hoped that her son would _not_ inherit her love of caf. But she hadn’t quite been able to tell him no. Still, being the conscientious mother that she was, she limited his caf-milk consumption to weekends and other special days like Sabine-is-visiting days.

Sabine knew this.

“Fine.” She grinned and set to work making a small breakfast for Jacen and herself. After they’d eaten and they sat in comfortable silence sipping their respective cups of caf, Jacen put his little hand on top of hers, the way he always did when he wanted to tell her something important.

“Bean?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Ezra’s sad.”

Sabine’s heart stuttered; she’d thought the same thing but chalked it up to over-worry. “Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Dunno.” Jacen shrugged. “Just kinda—him and mama were talkin’ about my daddy and he got this—” He stopped, not knowing how to say what he meant. “Whenever my mama used to finish telling me a story about my daddy, she’d—I don’t know—her eyes looked far away.”

Sabine understood; she’d seen that look—that mixture of hurt and hope—on Hera’s face ten thousand times.

“And you used’ta—” He mimicked the expression briefly. “before Ezra came back.”

Sabine’s mouth smiled but her brows pulled together. “Do we bum you out, Jacy?” She was the only person in the galaxy allowed to use that endearment.

“Nah.” He drained the last of his caf-milk. “Some sads are real big—I get it.” He scooted off his chair and padded toward his room.

“Five years old and he ‘gets it,’” Sabine muttered to herself. Then again—he’d always been eerily insightful. Maybe that was a shred of Jedi-whatever that Kanan had given him. Sabine finished her caf quickly, did the dishes, and set out toward the _Ghost_ and Ezra.

* * *

 She found him, as she knew she would, standing in the doorway of Kanan’s cabin, looking into the empty room. She drew up beside him and put a hand on his back. She could feel the tension in his muscles.

“It’s not that I forgot he was gone,” Ezra said quietly. He glanced at her, hanging his head. He looked like the young, lost kid she’d met all those years ago. “It—was just easier to imagine that maybe he wasn’t. I didn’t…” He stopped for a long time. “Before Lothal, the last time I was on the _Ghost,_ so was Kanan.”

Sabine sighed heavily, leaning into his side as she put her arm around him. “It feels fresh,” she supplied, murmuring.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “You guys got used to things without him. When I saw the _Ghost_ the other day, I half-expected—I don’t know.” He stopped again, shaking his head in agitation. “Hera and Kanan had a _baby_. You guys fought this whole war, had this whole life and I just—missed it.”

“Ezra.” Her heart broke for him. She _knew_ that something had been bothering him—he’d been restless the last three nights—but she hadn’t realized it was this heavy a burden of guilt and loss. She stepped in front of him, placing her hands on his chest and his arms wound around her. He buried his face in the top of her head. “You’re here now, _cyar’ika_.” The Mando’a endearment fell off her tongue and she decided she liked how it sounded, how it felt to call him that. “And we didn’t—we’re still grieving, too. Hera and I had to lean on each other; you can lean on us now.”

She felt hot tears fall on her scalp and he was breathing jerkily as he tried to stay composed. “Lean on me,” she whispered.

He crumbled in her grasp and they sank to the floor together. She stroked the back of his neck and whispered things to him in Mando’a and Basic both, comforting and calming him. Waves of grief and anger and guilt broke over him again and again, but Sabine didn’t mind.

Jacen was right; some sads are real big.


	6. Clear

Clear

Hera didn’t know what she’d expected Ezra and Sabine to be like together after so much time apart, but it wasn’t this. Maybe she thought she’d see shades of the two teens who’d lived on the _Ghost_ those long years ago: Sabine stand-offish and Ezra desperately trying to curry favor with her.

She didn’t see that at all.

In fact, the two kids she’d mothered were gone, and she hardly recognized the adults before her. Not that she minded; they’d grown into who they were always meant to be, and they were together now.

Well—

The _together_ part was purely speculative, but Hera had a sharp eye, good instincts, and the benefit of personal experience in this particular arena. She was certain Ezra and Sabine were in love with each other. Whether they’d had that conversation themselves, she could only guess. But even if they hadn’t, it was undeniable. The sentiment showed plainly in every glance, every small smile, every touch. _That_ in itself was a significant tell; Sabine was not a touchy person, yet she was often close enough to Ezra to lay her hand on his or to let him lightly rest an arm around her shoulders. By no means were they inseparable, but Hera noticed that pull between them. No—it was more than pull. It was need. Quiet, but persistent.

Hera didn’t know much about what had filled Ezra’s last few years—suspected she never would—but she knew what had filled Sabine’s: longing. Sabine had never said so, but silently standing by as Ezra surrendered to Thrawn and then rebuilding Lothal in his absence had taken a toll. Hera guessed pretty early on that Sabine was in love with Ezra and just hadn’t realized it—or had realized it too late.

How well Hera understood that burden.

She’d never get Kanan back, but seeing Sabine with Ezra—seeing that renewed spark in the younger woman’s eyes—was the next best thing. Her heart ached with happiness for them. Nervousness, too, if she was telling the truth. She imagined that quite a long road lay ahead of them, and she wanted to know that they’d be alright—that they’d handle themselves better than she and Kanan had. Life was too short for anything else.

On the morning of Sabine and Ezra’s last day visiting, Hera got an early start, rising with the sun so she could have her caf _before_ she bid an emotional farewell to her two surrogate children. On her way to the kitchen, she nearly bumped into Sabine—who was quietly sneaking out of the spare bedroom where Ezra had been staying. Sabine flushed and Hera’s brows rose high.

“You…know that’s how I ended up with Jacen, right?” She managed at last, a teasing smile pulling at her mouth.

Sabine nearly choked on her own tongue. “ _Stars_ ,” she gasped. “That’s not what—we haven’t—not that—” Sabine stopped, made an aggravated sound. “It’s—I like knowing he’s close by,” she blurted. “I sleep better—I _am_ sleeping better than I have in years.” She looked up at Hera in near-dismay, shocked by her own, sudden vulnerability.

“Are you alright?” Hera asked seriously. “I mean, really? Both of you?”

Sabine blinked. “If—if we’re not, we will be.” The answer was soft, but confident.

“You love him.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Sabine nodded. “I do. And I’ll be damned if anything else gets in my way.”

Hera smiled, but it was tight. “Does he know?”

“I—” Sabine looked suddenly unsure. “I _think_ so. I’ve said—what I wanted to say.”

“Good.” Hera nodded and she squeezed Sabine’s hand. “Say it often. Say it loudly. Make it clear.”

Sabine faltered. “You—you didn’t, did you?”

“No.” Hera looked toward her tiny son’s room, toward the child given to her by a man she’d loved too little too late. “I don’t want that for you.”

“I understand.”

Sabine stepped away then and Hera murmured after her, “I hope that you do.”


	7. Know

Know

Sabine thought a lot about what Hera had said.

_Say it often. Say it loudly. Make it clear._

She thought a lot about how to do that for Ezra, how to tell him she loved him. She’d _told_ him she loved him, of course, but she knew there was more to it than that. Mandalorians were an action-oriented people; Sabine felt the words were hollow if not accompanied by gestures of some kind. She didn’t yet understand that Ezra’s love for her was and always had been unconditional.

For about a week after they came back from Hera’s, Sabine was almost _nervous_ around Ezra. Which was awful. There was nothing she enjoyed _less_ than kissing him and then suddenly being overcome by the thought, _You’re not enough. That’s not enough._ Every time she told him—in Mando’a, because it sounded so strange and cold in Basic—that she loved him, she felt this gnawing fear inside. _That’s not convincing_ , the fear said. _He could leave you if he’s unsure._

She thought of something Ketsu had said once, too, a jaded generalization: _Men understand affection in one way, Sabine: physical._

Kriff Ketsu for ever bringing that up—as if she had ever needed more of a reason to be leery of anyone who’d tried to flirt with her. Her fourteen-year-old self had balked at the statement, but now Sabine wondered if maybe there was some truth to it.

It certainly seemed that Hera had found… _other_ ways of showing Kanan her affection even if she hadn’t been able to say the words.

Sabine felt so unsure—she wanted Ezra to _know_ beyond the faintest shadow of a doubt that she loved him, that she was committed to being here with him. But the idea of… _that_ made her stomach knot up—and not in a good way. She couldn’t imagine _going to bed with him_ when being so free with physical touch at all—holding his hand, sleeping next to him, kissing him—was still so foreign to her. (And when it was still something she needed just to stay grounded and calm and sure that this was real.)

But a few times lately, she’d turned around to find Ezra watching her with something in his eyes—something she could only describe as want. She’d felt his mouth linger on hers and his hands touch her more tenderly than before. Never pushing—but, say, carefully exploring what the bare skin of her waist felt like beneath his fingertips. Things like that—which she hadn’t minded until she considered that maybe he…wanted more.

With her heart in her throat and her fists clenched at her sides, she decided to give it to him. So there’d be no misunderstanding how she felt.

* * *

 Sabine had seemed tense the last few days—not so much that he was concerned about her wanting to run from him, but enough that he was beginning to feel frustrated with himself for not being able to figure out what was bothering her. He hadn’t been so good at that when they’d been living together day in and day out for years; it was infinitely harder now. He knew that the surest way to spook her would be to straight up ask her what was wrong, so whenever she was close, he held her for maybe just a little longer than he needed to. Just to let her know he was there. Kriff, he loved that woman and he wasn’t about to let her get away now. He decided patience was his best bet.

And then, one night, he decided maybe it would have been better to talk to her after all.

He’d been just about half asleep when Sabine came to bed, sweet-smelling and shower-warm. She settled in beside him, as per usual, and then she turned her body toward his, swinging her leg over his hip—

 _Not_ as per usual.

Ezra was immediately and fully awake. “What—”

“Shh,” she said. She pushed his shoulder and he turned over on his back, staring at her in dumbfounded curiosity. She leaned over him, softly kissing his neck, his jaw, the twin scars on his cheek. He couldn’t help the satisfied sound that scraped the back of his throat when he felt her hands drift over his chest, and he settled his own hands on her hips. He sat up a bit, meeting her mouth with his, and she kissed him senseless—but it was wrong.

 _She_ was wrong.

Ezra wasn’t quite sure what Sabine was trying to start, but he was pretty sure that anxiety was out of place here. And when he got past how intoxicating it was to have her like this, that’s all he found—anxiety. Her entire being thrummed with it, both physically and in the Force. He closed his hands around her wrists and he opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but she worked free of his grasp and her fingertips brushed the tops of his thighs and his voice all but dried up.

“Listen, listen, _listen_ ,” he managed. His voice was ragged and the words rushed. She froze. “What is _up?_ ”

She inhaled sharply and her eyes were guarded; she looked like he may as well have slapped her, because maybe that would have hurt less. She shifted, sitting in the bed beside him; no part of their bodies touching now. “Don’t you—want—” She faltered for too many seconds before she finished the sentence with a very small and uncertain, “me?”

Ezra thought his eyes were going to bug out of his head. _“Sabine.”_ His tone was incredulous. “I don’t—I _have_ you. Right here.” He gestured between them. Then his face flushed. “I mean, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about—but not like this. Not when you’re scared.”

Her brows drew together and she dropped her gaze even as she lifted her chin. “What makes you think I’m scared?”

“The fact that you’re _literally trembling_ is a pretty good tip-off.” He touched her knee lightly. “What’s wrong?”

“I love you,” she blurted, biting her lip.

“I _know_.” Ezra shook his head, bewildered by how very bizarre a turn his night had taken.

“Are you sure?” There it was—that anxiety he’d sensed from her. He was horrified; had he said or done something to demand this kind of advance from her?

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said softly. He reached out to cup her cheek in his hand and she let him. “You made that pretty clear when you came looking for me. And when you told me you love me—every single time. Sabine.” He dipped his head, searching for her eyes. “Your word is all I need.”

She looked taken aback and relieved and close to tears. “I’m not good at this.”

By _this,_ he could only assume she meant _emotional and physical vulnerability._

“I know,” he said again. “I know exactly who you are.”

She crawled back over to him, unfolding and unwinding in his embrace as she so often did. “I want to,” she said, “but not yet. Not for a while.”

“Me either.” He was just as surprised as her to realize he really meant it. “I like this. We need to get used to this first.”

She nodded, her chin nudging his chest, and she fell still after that. Ezra was left to wonder whether he’d ever _truly_ know Sabine Wren, or whether he’d constantly be finding another piece of armor to peel off her. He was committed either way, but he hoped that, over time, the scars on both their hearts would heal; they were discovering more every day just how the last five years had taken a toll.

“We have to be honest with each other,” she said quietly, as if she was reading his mind. Her words were tinged with guilt.

“Yeah, we do.”

“So…honestly?” She paused, sighing. “What now?”

He didn’t have to ask what she meant. They’d known each other for just over nine years now. Four of those had been spent on the _Ghost_ , fighting the Empire. The other five had been spent still fighting the Empire, but in two very different ways, and a galaxy apart from one another. Then she’d found him. They’d had a few days together. They’d gone to see Hera. They’d come home.

In nine years, there had never been a quiet moment.

And now that it was just the two of them, here on Lothal to stay, there seemed to be an infinite number of quiet moments stretching in front of them. They didn’t know what to do. They didn’t know how to lead a normal life.

“I guess…” Ezra began after a moment’s reflection. “I don’t know—what do couples do?”

“Couples,” she echoed.

Even after everything they’d just talked about, he still felt a surge of panic at the imagined note of uncertainty he’d heard in her voice. “Well, yeah, I mean—”

“We’re a couple,” she said. This time, there was no uncertainty either real or imagined. He could tell she was grinning. “It’s mundane. I like it.” She tipped her head back, peering up at him. “I want to do mundane things with you.”

He grinned right back. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

She yawned and stretched, pulling away so she could roll over and assume a more comfortable position for sleeping. “And we can start tomorrow by pulling all of my paint and gear out and thoroughly organizing it. Been meaning to do that.”

“And you waited for me to come back before you decided to do it.” He made a disgusted noise, but it was insincere. “I hate you,” he said.

Her laugh answered him in the darkness. “I know, love.”


	8. Date Night

Date Night

Not for the first time, Sabine wished she hadn’t cut her hair so short. For one thing, she was immensely curious about how it might feel to have Ezra’s fingers tangled up in longer strands. For another, maybe if she had hair covering or brushing her shoulders, she wouldn’t feel so naked right now.

She hated this dress.

Though, to be fair, wearing it had been more or less her idea. She wanted to do ordinary things, she’d said. So when Ezra responded by bashfully asking if she wanted to spend an evening out, she said yes quickly and without stopping to consider she’d never had an evening out with anyone ever and that maybe it was absurd to start now. Still, the idea of doing something like this with Ezra was oddly thrilling and romantic and she _did_ want to see the look on his face when he saw her all dressed up—but she still felt violently uncomfortable.

She was wearing more makeup than she ever had, and while she wasn’t displeased with the effect, she was already anxious to scrub her face clean. She’d applied a shimmery gold shade of eyeshadow on her lids, working a thin layer of black into the creases. That was accompanied by generous swipes of eyeliner and mascara. The black perfectly complimented the amber of her eyes and created an alluring effect. She swept a mauve-tinted rouge over her cheek bones and added a sheer gloss to her lips. She dabbed perfume behind her ears and fiddled with her bangs and then stepped back from the mirror to evaluate. Every bit of this—the cosmetics, the black, off-the-shoulder dress, the flat-heeled shoes—was left over from a reception she’d gotten roped into attending with Hera two years ago. She’d hated it as much then as now—though Ezra’s awed gaze went a long way toward making up for that.

Until he blurted: “You look _so_ …small.”

* * *

  _Feminine._ What he’d meant to say was that she looked feminine and lovely and spellbinding in that simple dress—but all his mind could spit out was “small.”

What the _actual kriff?_

Her flat stare made him want to crawl in a hole and die there, but the amused twitch of her lips told him the evening wasn’t ruined yet. Not trusting himself to speak again, he kissed her temple and he took her by the hand and they walked to the speeder. She let him drive, smoothing her skirt over her lap as she settled in.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, “are you carrying?”

She turned in her seat so he could see her frown. “Have you _ever_ known me to go _anywhere_ unarmed?”

“Well…no.” He eyed her critically. “But where—”

Her raised eyebrows interrupted him.

He swallowed. “Oh.”

* * *

They’d taken walks through Capital City before this, but doing it now, after sundown when the city lights were reflected in Ezra’s eyes—Sabine felt as though she’d never seen the place before. Something stirred in her as she watched him re-learn his home, equal parts sadness and excitement. The sadness came from knowing he hated having been gone for so long. The excitement came from getting to share Lothal with him now and forever. The pinching pain inflicted by her shoes was worth every bit worth seeing Ezra as he stood in the street and turning in a circle, face tipped toward the clear night sky.

But when they sat down to dinner, she started to change her mind about the whole evening; the shoes came off under the table.

* * *

Ezra’s collar felt incredibly tight and the room incredibly warm. He fumbled to undo his shirt’s topmost button and then he reached for his water. He knocked it over, of course, water and ice cascading over the table and dripping off the edge, no doubt falling into Sabine’s lap.

She didn’t even flinch.

Her gaze was levelled at him and it was _scary_.

She ran her tongue over her teeth and made a sucking sound before she dropped her chin a few centimeters and clasped her hands primly on the soaking-wet tabletop. “What?”

“Sabine, what I meant—”

“Did you _really_ just ask me if I was _involved_ with anyone while I was here on Lothal waiting for _you?_ ”

He had, in fact, asked just that. And it had, of course, left his mouth in the most asinine and convoluted way possible. What he wanted to hear was some kind of assurance that she hadn’t been lonely all that time because _honestly_ , he wouldn’t have wanted that for her. He hadn’t meant to say anything that would put that look in her eyes, the one that told him something inside was aching.

“Ezra.” His name was little more than a hiss. Then she took a deep breath and pushed back from the table. “You know what? We don’t need to order dinner. I already know you have the culinary tastes of a five-year-old. We’re done here.”

He watched, dumbfounded and breathless, as she stood up and walked away. Her hips were swaying and that dress was swinging around her calves and it was insanely attractive—and she was barefoot.

* * *

“Sabine, _wait!_ ”

Ezra was scampering behind her, trying to catch up, and she didn’t turn around. Whatever indignation she’d felt just moments earlier was quickly dissolving, embarrassment taking its place. She’d gotten halfway out of the restaurant before she realized she didn’t have her shoes on. Good riddance, anyway; they _hurt_ and her feet had the painful, red indentations to prove it. But _kark_ —what a scene she must have made.

And why?

She’d felt herself coming undone under Ezra’s steady, loving gaze, that’s why. All she’d wanted to do was reach across the table and just take him in her arms—and then she’d remembered she was in this stupid dress and she’d really just rather be in her bodysuit and armor, and there were too many other people around, and the room was hot—

And so she’d snapped at him when he very innocently asked if she’d had any paramours in his absence. There had been no trace of accusation or jealousy in his voice. Only open curiosity and she didn’t know _why_ _that kriffing bothered her—_

“Did _you?_ ” She demanded suddenly, whirling around to face him. He nearly collided with her and she took a step back, bumping into their parked speeder. She put a hand to his chest, intending to create space between them, but he caught it with one of his and held it there.

“Did I what?” She could tell it was taking some effort, but he kept his voice even.

She looked away. “Get—involved with anyone?”

His expression softened. “You’re—you’re my girl,” he mumbled shyly. “Always have been. From the very first day on the _Ghost._ ”

Sabine drew a long breath, relieved to hear that and aggravated with herself for having been irrationally jealous. She looked up at him. “I don’t wanna do this, Ezra.”

His panic was clear in the way his face completely drained of color.

 _“This_. _”_ She rephrased quickly, yanking on his collar. She popped two more shirt buttons open, brushing her fingers on the exposed skin perhaps unnecessarily. “It’s not us. Remember the first time we ever hung out just the two of us? We were painting a TIE fighter you stole.”

“Yeah,” he said with a slow grin. “I remember.”

“So let’s _go._ Let’s do something else.”

* * *

 He drove them well past the tower and when he pulled the speeder to a stop on Lothal’s empty plain, they both breathed a sigh of relief. Sabine twisted an arm behind her, yanking on her dress’s zipper. The shoulders fell even looser than before, coming halfway down her arms. She reclined her seat and threw her legs up on the dash, crossing them at the ankles. Her skirt fell back _quite_ a way, revealing the tightly-fitted shorts she was wearing—and the vibro-blade strapped thereto. Ezra laughed.

“You looked beautiful before,” he said, “but I like this, too.”

She pretended to glare at him. “You couldn’t have led with that first part earlier tonight?”

“I got a little tongue-tied.”

“You were barely speaking Basic.”

He shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”

She hummed. “Say you love me.”

“Sabine, I love you.”

They fell quiet, Sabine looking at the stars and Ezra looking at Sabine. Grass rustled in the soft wind and for hours and hours, they sat there in the speeder, fingers twined, talking or not. It ended up being the perfect evening out.

They never attempted a dress-up dinner again.


	9. Nightmare

Nightmare

“Ezra.” Her voice was thin and brittle. “Look at me.”

He wouldn’t. The space of the entire room was between them and Sabine wanted to close that gap desperately, but his posture told her not to try. She’d never seen him like this—so stiff and rigid and closed. But then, nothing like this had happened before.

Sabine touched the bruise on her cheekbone. It was still throbbing. As far as shiners went, it wasn't even in the top five worst she'd ever had. It wouldn’t take long to heal, she knew. Give it a week and a little ice, and it would be barely visible. She just didn’t know if Ezra would get over it as quickly.

“It was a nightmare. Worse than that—a night _terror_ , Ezra. You—”

“I didn’t know what was _real_ ,” he snapped. His eyes were on his lightsaber hilt, clutched tightly in his hand. His face held nothing but revulsion. “I could have killed you.”

She’d found him on the tower’s balcony, gaze fixed on something she couldn’t see, hands outstretched, tears coursing, screaming her name, Hera’s name, Kanan’s. She’d put a hand to his shoulder and spoke gently, trying to wake him. He’d spun around in an instant, fist swinging as he drew his saber. She’d ducked, but not before his knuckles found her eye. If he hadn’t reverted to his street instincts and ignited his saber first…

Sabine put it from her mind.

Force knew Ezra was thinking about it enough for the both of them.

“I’m not worried about that,” Sabine said roughly. “I’m worried about _you._ ” He opened his mouth and she cut him off, nearly yelling. “And if you tell me you’re karking _fine_ , I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

He stood there, shaking his head, staring at the ground.

“Talk to me,” she pleaded.

His eyes snapped to hers. “You’re still shaking.”

She was. Her body was coming down from the adrenaline rush and every muscle was still tense, quivering. Her hands were the worst, but she was gripping the back of the sofa to hide that. “I’m not scared of you, Ezra,” she said tiredly. “Let me come to you.”

He stayed silent, and she took that as permission, advancing slowly across the room. He watched her with a skittish look in his eye and he flinched when she gently eased his saber from his grasp. “Sabine—” He fingered the bruise on her cheek and she watched how his face turned grey.

“I’m alright.” She held his hand. “I’m alright.”

“It was—that night,” he choked. “On the gunship—Kanan—”

She breathed in and out slowly. “Has it always been like this?”

It made her sick to think of him living with nightmares of this severity over the last five years.

“No. I mean—” He dragged a hand over his head. “Not like this.”

“For how long?”

“Been getting worse since I came home. Just—being here—it’s—”

Sabine understood; it had taken her nearly the first full year to be able to walk by the old refinery site without her chest constricting. She’d had a chance to be on Lothal and let that wound heal. Ezra hadn’t. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought I could handle it,” he mumbled. “Most nights, just waking up next to you helps.”

“You should have told me.” The admonishment was gentle.

“I didn’t want to put you through it every time. Living through it _once_ was bad enough.”

“Living through it again and _again_ without anyone to lean on is _worse_ , Ezra.” She sighed. “I used to call Hera when it happened to me. And she did the same.”

He looked at her sharply. “You dream about it?”

“That, the Duchess, the day you disappeared. I mean—it’s been a while. But there have been nights I just…didn’t go to sleep. Can’t dream if you don’t go to sleep.” By the look on his face, she judged he’d come to the same conclusion. “How many nights, Ezra?”

“Three? Five? I don’t know.”

Sabine closed her eyes, cursing her own stupidity. She’d woken at least twice the last week to find him climbing out of bed; once claiming he’d had caf too late and couldn’t sleep, and another time claiming he needed medicine for a headache. She thought he looked tired, but he didn’t otherwise act out of the ordinary. She thought maybe he was just feeling under the weather. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“ _I’m_ sorry, Sabine.” His voice was breathy, hitching. He touched her cheek, his eyes red and brimming. He looked like he was drowning. “I just—I’m sorry.”

“Shh.” Slowly, she put her arms around him. “Shh.”

After several long, empty moments, he returned her embrace. They eventually went back to bed, sleeping with the light on, but Sabine didn’t rest. She knew this wasn’t over. And she was right.

Nightmares—though none to match this episode—continued to plague Ezra. It was days before he would kiss her again, weeks before he could look at her without a flash of guilt in his eyes, and months before he’d go to sleep without his lightsaber locked away. He talked to her about it all, but not, she suspected, half as much as he needed to.

When she could no longer stand seeing the shadows under his eyes, Sabine decided they needed to visit the old refinery site—even if it was going to hurt them both.


	10. Beauty From Ashes

Beauty From Ashes

Ezra wanted to be angry with Sabine, but her eyes were so compassionate. He just couldn’t.

“Why are we here?” He tone was flat, voice cracked and breathy. “Sabine, I don’t—”

She turned to him, holding his hand. “Do you trust me?”

He clenched his teeth. “I don’t want to be here.”

“But do you trust me?”

He did, implicitly. “Yes.”

They were standing at the entrance to the old Imperial refinery, a charred shell of the central fuel pod still remaining at the back of the site. Walls enclosed the rest of the space. Sabine squeezed Ezra’s hand. “Let’s go.”

She led him toward what used to be the central fuel pod and he walked just half a step behind her, reluctant and uneasy. As they came to the repurposed structure and stepped inside, Ezra stopped. He didn't trust what his eyes were seeing. “You…you didn’t tell me…”

“I didn’t think you were ready to hear.”

The place was beautiful, almost ethereally so.

Plants and flowers of every color and variety were in full bloom. That hollowed out, charred shell of a fuel pod had been turned into a botanical garden. It was vibrant and breathtaking. Peaceful, too. The whole place was just permeated with a sense of calm. Healing.

Ezra recoiled from it.

He spun around to face Sabine. “How— _how_ are you okay with this? This _place_ —it’s—”

"Ezra." His name from her lips soothed him, as did the soft pressure of her hand in his. "What do you _feel_ here?"

He reached out with the Force before he had time to be startled by the question. "I feel...purpose. Hope." The warmth of it spread through his veins. "I feel hope and assurance—like—something—it—" He struggled to articulate. "I don't know how to explain it. It—burned hotter than the fire." The last syllable lifted, asking her a question.

“You’re standing where Kanan died.” Sabine’s voice was hushed, eyes watching him carefully.

His stomach dropped. “What?”

Sabine raised her chin, inhaled deeply. “I figured it out. This is roughly where he was standing.”

“I don’t—” He looked at the lush grass beneath his feet, felt the hope and peace and purpose seeping through the hallowed ground. He'd expected to feel pain. He'd _wanted_ to feel pain. “Why would you tell me that?” He snapped.

"Because I want you to look at it."

"I _have_ looked at it. I was _here._ " He thought he'd made peace with what happened to his master, thought he'd understood it, but coming back to Lothal ripped him wide open again. When he closed his eyes, he could still see the fire, smell the stench, hear Hera's strangled scream. He could still remember how he _froze_ —in a moment when it could have been him _and_ Kanan holding back the blaze, he stood there in shock. "I was _here_ and I didn't do anything to—"

"Ezra." Sabine drew closer, gently taking his hand. "What could you have done? Died with him?"

He shook his head, blinking, dazed by her bluntness. "M-maybe. I—"

"And who would have protected the Jedi Temple from Palpatine? Who would have saved Ahsoka? Who would have liberated Lothal, Ezra?" She caressed his cheek and he turned his face into her palm. "Here's what happens if you die that day. Best case scenario: the rest of us manage to get off-world and back to the Alliance. Lothal is crushed in Pryce's hand. If we're lucky, Thrawn doesn't pursue us. If we're _really_ lucky, Lothal isn't targeted by the Death Star." She paused. "Worst-case scenario: we never leave Lothal again. We're arrested and executed very publicly."

Ezra flinched at the words. He could barely meet Sabine's eyes.

"Hera dies," she murmured, "and Jacen with her." She lifted his face. "Do you understand?"

"I—I don't—" He struggled to speak. He hadn't ever stopped long enough to think about what would have happened if _anything_ about that night had been different. He hadn't ever forced himself to calm down long enough to consider that Hera was already carrying Kanan's child. He looked around at the garden, at the place where fire had consumed a vital piece of their lives. "Do you—think he knew?"

"Don't you?" She asked gently. "Think about how calm he was, how sure. The same way _you_ were, Ezra, in the dome. Kanan knew where he was needed and what he had to do. Without—" She stopped and her brows pulled together as she fought tears. "We wouldn't be standing here together. Hera and Jacen wouldn't have survived. It would have all been for nothing. Don't—don't wish you could have stood with him here, Ezra. Please. I can't—you _would_ have died here and—I need you."

The pain and pleading in her voice almost broke him. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. "I know—you're right, Sabine," he choked. "And I know it had to happen—the way it did. I just didn't think it would be this hard to—to be reminded of it."

"But _look_ at this place," she whispered. He felt her jaw moving against his chest. "It—smoldered for weeks. The earth was scorched. The fuel was toxic. They said nothing could ever grow. Ashes blew in the wind for months. And now? _Life_ thrives here. Tell me that's not Kanan."

He nodded wordlessly.

"Everything about our lives the last five years has been beauty from ashes, Ezra. And that doesn't mean we're not gonna carry the pain, but the pain isn't all there is."

"I know." He kissed the top of her head. "And I wouldn't—I wouldn't trade anything for this. Being here with you. I just...I feel like I’m living in the ashes right now."

She stepped back, looking at him. "I know you do. It was like that for me for a long time. It'll get better, _cyar'ika_."

The endearment made him smile. "I like it when you call me that."

"I like that I get to call you that," she said, leaning into his side. He put an arm around her shoulders.

"It _is_ beautiful." He paused. "Did you come here often?"

"No." She sounded horrified by the thought. "Just once—for the dedication. I couldn't make myself. But I liked knowing it was here."

Ezra laughed. "You beautiful little hypocrite," he chided. "Dragging me here when you never wanted to come yourself."

She glared weakly. "But it's easier together, no?"

"Everything is easier together."

"So let's carry it together. Quit trying to carry it alone."

"I haven't been—"

Her admonishing look shut him up.

"Yeah, okay," he grumbled in a sigh. Ever since that horrific nightmare two months ago—when he'd hurt Sabine—he'd been sleeping only enough to survive, terrified of having another episode like that. Wanting to do everything in his power to avoid the nightmares that chased him every time he closed his eyes. She begged him to open up to her, but he did it at arm's length. She knew that.

"We have to share our pain, Ezra, if we ever want to share joy."

Joy. When he heard that word, he thought of spending his life with Sabine, marrying her, building a family with her. But she was right: they wouldn't be able to do that if he couldn't get past the fire and the ashes. He looked at Sabine in awe, thinking of the bold-hearted courage it had taken for her to come here with him today. She had a right to as much pain as he did, yet she was ready to let it go and walk hand-in-hand with him through his own—she who used to be unwilling to confront pain at all. If Sabine could expose her heart, then surely he could—

"Sometimes, it's you," Ezra blurted. "In my dreams—sometimes it's you who dies."

Sabine nodded slowly and breathless silence hung between them. "Thank you for telling me." She tiptoed up to kiss his cheek. "It's a start."


	11. TLC

TLC

After they visited the refinery site, something dark and heavy lifted from Ezra's shoulders. Not immediately, but it lifted. Day by day, he found it easier to close his eyes and  _sleep_ at night, easier to confide in Sabine when he couldn't, easier to look away from the brokenness of the past. They finally,  _finally_ poured out their pain to each other, picking apart the last five years and everything they'd been through on their own. And they put it behind them.

If Ezra hadn't been in love with Sabine before, the last few weeks would have done it for sure. As they worked through his nightmares and everything else, she showed a tenderness and patience he honestly didn't know she had. Quiet words and soothing touches were not something he would've associated with the fierce Sabine he met a decade ago. He knew that she was still a stubborn Mandalorian; sharp-tongued, hot-tempered, and more than capable of holding her own when they sparred hand-to-hand. She was still all the things that attracted him to her in the first place. But this new softness he was discovering—he loved that, too. He was completely head-over-heels for the walking contradiction that was Sabine Wren, and he wanted to shout it from the tower rooftop.

She  _was_ still Sabine, though, and neither needed nor wanted grand gestures or speeches from him. Her heart had been won with loyalty and quiet affection and would continue to respond to the same. So Ezra did what he could. When he got up before her, he fixed her caf just the way she liked it. He sat quietly nearby when she painted. Let her decide how close she wanted them to be when they were on the sofa watching the HoloNet. He still teased her, flirted poorly with her, aggravated her just for the fun of it. It all seemed to be going well enough, and if she was feeling any lack of attention from him, she neither said nor did anything to let on, but Ezra couldn't shake the feeling that he could be doing  _more._ Without even realizing it, he began searching for some way he could truly repay what she had done for him.

Eventually, he got his chance.

Ezra woke up in the middle of the night when the mattress jerked as Sabine jumped out of bed. "S'bine?" She didn't answer, running toward the 'fresher. Ezra sat up and squinted at the chrono, rubbing bleary eyes. It was oh-three-hundred. He considered going back to sleep; she'd get him if she needed him, right? His feet were on the floor before he realized he'd decided to get out of bed.

He stood outside the 'fresher door, listening to the unmistakable sound of retching from within. It made him feel miserable for her. "Sabine?" He called softly.

Again, no answer. The sani flushed and the sink turned on. Unless he missed his guess, she was rinsing her mouth and vigorously brushing her teeth. The water turned off and the door finally opened, Sabine leaning in the frame.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey." Her voice was far too low. She looked at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes.

"Are...you okay?"

"Yeah, totally," she mumbled. "I was just feeling a little—"

Ezra reached out and touched her forehead. She was  _hot._ "You're burning up, Sabine."

She shook her head. "I'm cold."

"Yeah, but you're burning up," he reiterated. She shrugged and he narrowed his eyes. "Are you…coming back to bed?"

"Go on, I'm just gonna stand here a second," she said, dismissing him with her hand. She leaned heavily on the doorframe.

"Sabine, I'm not just gonna—"

"Ezra, it's nothing. I just need some air." Sabine stood up fully as if to drive the point home. It had the opposite effect. She stumbled, reaching out with an arm for a door frame that was no longer there, and found Ezra instead.

Ezra had known what was coming and closed the space between them in anticipation. Ducking and putting her arm over his shoulders, he braced his arm behind her knees and lifted her up. She gasped at the motion. "I've got you, Sabine."

She put her head on his shoulder as he walked back to the bedroom. "I think…I'll be okay?" She said thickly. "I just don't  _feel_  good."

"I know you don't." He set her down in her spot on the bed, helping her pull the covers up.

She leaned her elbows on her knees, holding her head in her hands. "Grab me a couple pillows from the back of the closet, would you? I don't want to lay down."

Pillows retrieved, he adjusted them behind her so she was half-sitting up in bed. "Head hurt?"

"Yeah, started yesterday."

Now that Ezra was thinking about it, she  _had_ seemed subdued, but he hadn't been able to tell she was feeling bad. "What else?"

"I don't know. Sore throat, stuffy nose, achy, feverish?"

"Sa _bine!"_ His jaw dropped. "Why didn't you say anything?"

She shook her head. "I thought it would go away if I ignored it long enough."

"How did you  _live_  so long by yourself?" He groused under his breath, standing up.

"What?"

"I said—I'm gonna go get the med-kit. Be right back."

Ezra went to the 'fresher, making a bee-line for the bag of medical necessities Sabine kept in there. He opened the bag, rifling through its contents. Bandages, ointments, basic medications, and—ah. The thermometer. Ezra went back to the bedroom with the kit, finding Sabine asleep. Her eyes cracked open when he sat down. "What are you doing?"

"Need to know what we're dealing with." He turned the thermometer on and waited for its ready beep before he pressed the scanner to her temple. When it beeped again, Ezra looked at the display, whistling.

"Congraaaatulations, Ms. Wren," he drawled, affecting the accent of a HoloNet game show host. "You are  _super_ sick."

Sabine rolled her eyes. "Give me that." Weakly, she grabbed the thermometer from him and read the display herself. "Oh."

Her temperature was over one hundred and two degrees.

"Looks like you picked yourself up a nice case of Loth-flu," Ezra said, forehead creasing.

"Just call it 'flu,' Ezra." She returned irritably. "I  _know_ it's  _Loth-_ flu. We're on  _Loth_ al."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Flu."

"You shouldn't stay in bed with me," she said suddenly. "You'll get sick, too."

"No  _way_  am I leaving you alone like this." To emphasize his point, Ezra tucked his legs under the covers as he dug in the med-kit for a fever reducer to give to Sabine. "And anyway, I've been exposed to whatever you have now. I'll either get sick or I won't." He popped two tablets in her hand. "Chew."

She complied, chasing the chalky medicine down with the glass of water on her nightstand. "Okay," she said, pulling the blankets up to her chin. "Stay—but don't complain when you feel like you're dying. I'll just say 'I told you so.'"

Ezra nodded. "Deal." He kissed her temple and her skin felt unnervingly warm—he wondered if he shouldn't make her drink more water to keep dehydration at bay. But she was already asleep, the crease between her brows indicating a fitful night ahead. Ezra lay wakeful and ready in case she needed him.

* * *

Sabine did sleep through the rest of the night. But when she woke up at ten the next morning, it was with body-shaking chills and the feeling that her skin had ten-thousand angry nerve endings per square inch. The bedcovers were  _so heavy_ and the weight made her skin ache; inconvenient, considering she was violently cold. Ezra's hand grazing her forehead was the worst of all. She recoiled from his touch with a jerk.

"Oh, please don't," she begged. She couldn't tell if that was hurt or concern in his eyes. She couldn't look at him for long in any case—even her  _eyes_ hurt and felt swollen and strained. "I just—everything aches."

"Okay," he said. "What do you need?"

"I feel hotter than last night." She knew that didn't answer the question at all, but it was the only thing coming to mind.

He was already reaching for the fever reducers. "You've gotta drink something, Sabine."

The very idea made her stomach churn. She shook her head on the pillow as she chewed the tablets. "This'll be all I can do."

He made a disgruntled sound. "As soon as they kick in and bring your temperature down, I'm coming at you with copious amounts of water."

"'Kay." Sabine wanted to rib him and ask when he'd started using vocabulary words like "copious," but she barely managed to chew and swallow the tablets before she was asleep again.

The next time she woke, she was  _hot_ and threw all her covers aside. She turned her head and saw Ezra sitting cross-legged against the headboard, datapad in his hand, just as casual as you please, trying not to act like he'd been watching her intently.

"How long was I out?" Sabine made a face at the sound of her own voice, scratchy and cracked and barely-there.

"Hour and a half? Maybe two." He handed her a glass of water and she sat up, taking it gratefully. "How do you feel?"

"Better than earlier?" Sabine guessed the only reason she was able to sit upright now was because the medicine had brought her fever down a degree or two. She drank the water slowly, reveling in how it seemed to cool her from the inside out. "Were…you here the whole time?"

He froze. "Is that not okay?"

"It's just—gross." She saw something cross his face and rushed to correct herself. "For you, I mean. Watching me be sick is probably not the most fun you've ever had."

"I'm pretty sure 'not the most fun' I ever had was when I fell off the  _Ghost_ and almost died because Chopper was throwing garbage at me. This?" He grinned, nudging her very gently. "Hanging out with you when you are physically too weak to leave the room if I'm annoying you? Sixteen-year-old me is doing backflips right now."

"Twenty-five-year-old you is a  _loser_ , Ezra Bridger." She tried her best to sound snarky, but the last syllable of his name was lost in a fit of coughing. "Oh,  _good_ ," she mumbled when she could breathe again. Ezra tapped her glass of water, still in her hand, prompting her to finish it. She did. The initial relief the water gave her was quickly fading as she realized her throat felt like it had been sliced by a dozen hot knives and suddenly, she was shaking with chills again. She looked at Ezra, tears pricking her eyes. She was just  _so karking miserable._

"I know," he said, opening his arms to her. "I know." She leaned against him, not caring that contact with another human being might drive her fever higher. She wanted the comfort of his closeness. They lay down together and Sabine's shaking eased little by little. The throbbing behind her eyes got worse.

"I have to go to sleep," she said apologetically. Sleep was all she could think about.

"Rest easy, love." He kissed the top of her head. "I've got you."

As she drifted back to sleep, the romantic thrill she felt when she heard him call her "love" was almost enough to make her forget she was sick at all.

On the third full day of Sabine's illness, Ezra put a stopwatch to it: she was sleeping roughly eighteen hours a day. Not only that—she was eating almost nothing, drinking only as often as he made her. (Which  _was_ fairly often, even if he had to wake her.) She was far too pale, even though a deep flush had settled on her cheeks. Her chest rattled when she breathed. Her eyes were glassy, gaze unfocused.

And that was when she was lucid. Her few bouts of delirium were something else completely.

He could tell when her fever was spiking high because of how she couldn't seem to keep track of when or where she was, and she couldn't look at him without panic showing in her eyes.

"This isn't real," she mumbled frantically on the third evening. She'd insisted earlier in the day on getting out of bed in favor of laying on the sofa. From his chair across the room, Ezra stared hard at her.

"What isn't?"

She sat up, wild-eyed and unsure. "I don't know." She gestured to the space and flicked her gaze briefly to him. She shook her head and spoke with conviction. "But Ezra's gone. He left."

Ezra flinched at the word  _left._ He knew that Sabine wasn't really  _Sabine_ at the moment, but the way she said it—it made it sound like he'd made some wanton and careless decision on the Star Destroyer that day. But she was in no state for him to do anything other than placate and agree with her, not when she didn't even realize it was him she was talking to. "Yeah, but he'll be back."

Sabine scoffed, laying down. "Who knows? I don't. And you know what?"

"What?"

"I think Hera thinks I'm naïve for hoping." A pause. "Do  _you?_ "

Who the kriff  _did_ she think she was having this conversation with? "No," he answered gently. "I think it takes a lot of courage to hope."

"Mm. I don't know." She tossed fitfully, trying to find a comfortable-enough position to lay in. "It was my fault, you know. I mean—not the karking Purrgil. But Ezra going to the Destroyer in the first place. Hera said no, and then I  _saw_ him and I could have stopped him. And I didn't."

He hesitated. "Sounds...like you were in a tough spot."

She glared, and then she closed her eyes. "You don't know anything about it."

When she woke some hours later, he could tell in an instant she was herself again. She smiled weakly. "I  _must_ be dying for your face to look like that, Ezra."

He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. "Do you—remember talking to me earlier?"

She rubbed her forehead. "No. Was I...out of it again?"

"Yeah." He decided not to tell her how she hadn't even recognized him, how she was re-living a time when she believed herself to be completely alone. "You were."

"I'm sorry." She sighed, and her breath caught on the congestion in her chest. Ezra grimaced at the sound and went to the kitchen to get her another glass of water.

"You know the drill," he said when he handed it to her. Her brows quirked.

"You know I'm  _not_ actually dying, right?"

She sounded bad, though—the way her voice had been scraped raw by coughing the last few days. Ezra shook his head. "Yeah, but you're not getting a whole lot better, either."

Sabine couldn't argue with that, and she knew it. "I feel...weird today, though. Maybe the fever's about to break."

"Maybe." He glanced at the chrono. "You ready to go back to bed?"

"Yeah, but—" She stopped, gnawing her lip. "I need help getting there." Her eyes were guarded and he could tell that the admission cost her. He nodded, lifting her easily; maybe a little  _too_ easily. She felt gaunt in his arms.

"If you're still sick like this tomorrow, we're going straight to the medcenter," he said severely.

She nodded as she settled into bed, and Ezra thought it a bad sign that she didn't try to argue.

* * *

The fever  _did_ break overnight. Sabine woke around four, sweaty and happy to  _be_ sweaty. Her skin felt like skin again and she felt clear-headed for the first time in days, the haze of fever gone. The headache and weakness and congestion lingered, but now that her body-temperature was normalizing, it seemed easier to deal with. Glancing over at sleeping Ezra, she eased out of bed carefully so as not to wake him. Standing up was an experimental thing; her legs wobbled as she walked. Quietly, she grabbed a fresh change of clothes and went to the 'fresher, eager for a cool shower. The task was perhaps a bit too taxing; she ended up having to sit in the shower floor to finish bathing, but the soap and water felt so  _good_ she didn't care at all. Once she dried off and got dressed, she felt almost like a brand-new person.

Until she took a hard look in the mirror.

She was surprised and repulsed to see dark, sunken eyes looking back at her. She was too pale and her cheeks were hollow, her nose red and raw from having used so many tissues. Her lips were chapped. She looked  _too thin._ She groaned—had Ezra  _really_ seen her like this and worse?

Disgusted and strangely self-conscious, Sabine turned away from the mirror and did her best to sneak back to bed. To her surprise, the bed was empty.

"Ezra?" She called worriedly, voice still no more than a strained squeak. In that moment, she forgot all about her stupid insecurity over how she looked. If Ezra had had a nightmare and she hadn't been there—

The sudden, panicked race of her pulse did nothing to help the rush of dizziness she was feeling—she'd been up too long already. But she  _needed_ to make sure he was okay. She forced her legs to carry her to the living area. She saw Ezra in the kitchen and she plopped on the sofa, unspeakably grateful. "You scared me to death," she said sharply, rubbing her temples.

He looked over at her with relief and delight clearly showing on his face. "Uh, yeah, I could say the same."

He joined her on the sofa, handing her another dose of medicine and another glass of water. She rolled her eyes. "We have to quit meeting like this," she mumbled over the rim of the glass.

"No kidding." Tentatively, he reached out and put his hand to her forehead. There was no real difference between the temperature of his skin and hers now. "Thank the  _Force,_ " he sighed. "You look so much better."

Sabine almost choked on the tablets she was chewing, eyes wide. " _Eeew._ Have you  _seen_ me lately, Ezra?"

"Gorgeous as ever." He grinned and then the expression slipped. "And on your way to healthy again."

Sabine looked at Ezra—really looked at him. He was tired. Had he rested at all while she was sick? He hadn't been far from her; that much she knew. He'd constantly been there to make sure she was drinking adequately, to lay a cool cloth on her forehead, to help her move from place to place. Had he slept? Or just spent his time tied up in knots of anxiety? She recognized the look in his eyes—she'd seen it in her own when they'd been in the thick of dealing with his nightmares.

She set her glass aside and twined their fingers together. "Would you be grossed out if I kissed you right now?"

His mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh. "Not at all."

She leaned forward and touched her lips to his in a chaste kiss; she hardly had the energy for anything else. She cupped his face in her hands when she withdrew. "Thank you for taking care of me," she said softly.

Something strange crossed his face and his brows drew together. "You know I'd never  _leave._ " It sounded a lot like a question.

"Ezra." She paused and then was surprised to hear the next words from her mouth spoken in Mando'a.  _"Mhi me'dinui an."_

He shook his head slightly, not understanding.

 _We share all_. That was the translation. But she said, "Of course I know. Of course I know."

Though she was bone-tired, she wound her arms around his neck and held him until she was sure he understood her.


	12. Filthy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an absolute delight--because I didn't write it. Ragnar__Danneskjold did, and you're absolutely going to love it. Shout out to him for a.) letting me use headcanon and events from his fic "Crumbling" (which you need to read) as I've been writing this and b.) proofreading and troubleshooting the heck out of all these chapters with me and helping make sure everything is in character. It's so, so, so appreciated.

Filthy

It took a couple of weeks for Sabine to well and truly recover from her bout of flu, and when she did, Ezra saw more of her vivacious spirit than he had in a long time. It charmed and fascinated him—except for early in the morning.

"Ezraaaaa."

"Hrrmm."

"Ezra!"

"What?" The groggy Jedi said from beneath his pillow.

"Get out of bed! We're burning daylight," the overly chipper Mandalorian replied. She grabbed the blanket and ripped it away from the nearly bare form underneath.

 _That_ got Ezra's attention. "Hey!" He shouted angrily, lifting his head up and gazing up at the pesky girl who had disrupted his lazy morning. He glanced at the chrono, too; it was just a little after eight _._ He glared and she leaned close, smirking.

"Geez, if I tire you out like that just kissing, what are you gonna do when we..."

"Very  _funny_. What's got you in such a good mood already?" Ezra groused, sitting up stiffly and stretching with a wide yawn. With his eyes closed he didn't notice the downright lustful look Sabine was giving his shirtless torso.

He could never really bring himself to be quite the morning person Sabine seemed to be. Thinking back to his days on the  _Ghost_ , he remembered being woken on a few occasions hearing her voice in the hallway, something he always seemed to be able to pick out and focus on no matter where he was, or stumbling out of his bunk to find Sabine fully dressed and working on a new masterpiece in the common room before he'd barely opened his eyes.

But actually living with the girl had been a revelation. Over the months since he'd been back, he couldn't count how many times he'd heard her banging around in the kitchen or singing to herself in the living room, a new-though-delightful habit she'd picked up over their years apart. He hadn't yet told her he'd been waking up to listen while pretending to be asleep; he didn't want to risk the possibility she might stop. Best alarm clock ever.

But this day the late morning sunlight found him truly fast asleep, as it flooded through the skylight onto the large bed.

"C'mon Ez, you promised," Sabine whined, reaching for a pillow to throw at him. It never reached its intended target. Floating in the air for just a second, the fluffy projectile reversed course and bounced harmlessly off her face.

"Ugh," she groaned. "I hate it when you do that."

"Well, then don't play with fire if you don't wanna get burned." Ezra laughed, finally rising to his feet. "What did I promise again?"

"Oh no, don't act clueless now. Get up. I've been up for hours." Sabine walked over to plant a kiss on his cheek. "You know exactly what you promised. Get dressed—nothing too nice, as if I have to remind you."

"Yes ma'am." Ezra replied sarcastically but smiled despite himself.

There were times when Sabine might be considered "bossy," but in truth, it was one of her most charming traits. He knew too well what she was like when she was uncertain, reserved, and shut-off from the people around her. Hearing her totally confident and assured, full of determination and assertiveness was as much of a breath of fresh air as the morning. And he also knew she only got like that when she was in either a very good mood, or a very bad one. And this didn't seem like the latter.

Fifteen or so minutes later, a now-dressed Ezra stepped out of the refresher to find a steaming mug of caf waiting for him…next to an ominous looking datapad.

"Oh. Right." Ezra said, his expression falling slightly.

"Don't 'oh right' me. We've both been putting this off for weeks. Every time I bring it up you distract me," Sabine retorted with a stern look.

"I never heard you complain about my….distractions." Ezra answered, stepping forward and pulling her into an embrace.

Sabine's head started to spin as she inhaled deeply and felt one of his strong hands work at the knots in her back, while the other explored elsewhere. Honestly, one more day couldn't hurt, could it?

"No. Not this time" She said suddenly. She stepped back and pulled her tanktop back down where it belonged, blushing slightly. Probably not the best day to be out of clean undergarments. "This place is filthy."

"Aww c'mon. Let's go do something. It's such a nice day out," Ezra wheedled, trying to take another step towards her, but getting only her outstretched hands.

"Yeah, and it was just as nice yesterday. And the day before. And what did we do? Any and everything  _but_ clean."

Ezra sighed. She was right. Hell, she was  _always_  right. The place was starting to look a little shabby, and no amount of hiding under the covers or fiddling with blasters or walking aimlessly through the city with his petite partner would fix that.

"Alright, Lady Wren," he acquiesced with a mock-bow. "Command me."

"Cute." Sabine smiled slyly. "Well, Master Jedi, if you can pull yourself away from deciphering the infinite mysteries of the Force, I left you a list. Get on it."

* * *

Soon, Ezra was bent over, scrub brush in hand, cleaning grime from the paneling by the sink, while his better half flitted around the room grabbing clothes, linens, and other items for laundering.

"You know they make droids for this, right?" Ezra grumbled as she walked past.

"True, but a droid doesn't offer such an interesting view." Sabine laughed from behind him, admiring the scenery.

The soapy sponge sailed from Ezra's hand and impacted on Sabine's chest with a wet thump, leaving sudsy smudge on her shirt, one that Ezra noticed left a now-translucent spot in a very interesting area.

"That's two Ezra. Do that again and see what happens." She started to smirk, then noted where his eyes were directed. "You're lucky I fell in love with you. Here's your sponge." She rolled her eyes and tossed it back at him, then ducked behind the nearest piece of furniture, anticipating a counter-attack.

"Relax, I'm done playing games!" Ezra shouted, then added "for now" under his breath.

"I heard that!" Sabine yelled back, now safely across the room and attending to her own chores.

* * *

An hour later, Sabine was startled by sudden hands around her waist as she rooted around in a closet, organizing various bits of art supplies, tactical gear, workout clothing, and other odds and ends into storage bins.

"Ezra!" She yelped, dropping the container she was holding and spinning around in place.

"Hey, relax, babe. I'm done," he said, giving her a light kiss.

"Good." She collapsed into him tiredly and mumbled into his shoulder. "This is harder than I thought."

"You're one to talk. You gave me all the real work," Ezra chuckled.

"Well if you would have woken up first,  _you_  could have made the list." Sabine retorted, quirking her brow and returning his kiss. "Actually, I'm glad you're here. I need your help."

"I knew there was a reason you kept me around. Got something heavy for me to move?"

She snorted. "Please. I've seen you with your shirt off. If I need those noodle arms for something heavy, I'll let you know." She grinned wickedly, winking at him. She had indeed seen him without his shirt, and his arms had stopped being anything to mock years ago.

"Thanks a lot," he said, affecting hurt. She punched him in the shoulder and he laughed. "What do you need?"

She took a deep breath before launching in. "So I've got these old paints and I was wondering if I should organize them by color, or by type. Because sometimes when I'm doing something I just want a few colors to choose from for the overall theme, but other times I need a certain type, like oil-based for wet-on-wet canvas or spray application for my street art, and I can't decide. What do you think?"

Sabine held up two bins nearly overflowing with assorted tubes, bottles, spray cans, and jars, many of the colors Ezra didn't even know existed.

"Umm does it  _matter?_ " He asked lamely, immediately noting the cool look Sabine was giving him and seeing his mistake. "What I mean is…" he continued, trying to cover his obvious error, "How about you put them in one larger bin…and umm…do both? Like maybe by type and then other way around…maybe?"

Ezra scratched the back of his head shyly, looking up to see if Sabine had bought his ploy.

She hadn't. But his dorky attempt still made her smile. Despite all they'd been through, the wars, the battles, the losses; here they were, just two people spending the day together being…normal. She wouldn't have it any other way.

"Color it is. Thanks Ezra, couldn't have done it without you." Sabine deadpanned, keeping the warm feeling in her heart to herself for now. He ignored her jab.

"Hey, when you're done, come out to the living room and bring that blue paint," he said, turning to leave.

"That 'blue paint?'" She asked skeptically.

"The one you used for the walls—I don't know what it's called.  _You're_  the expert."

"Yes I am. And one of these days, I'm gonna have to teach you the finer points of art."

"Sure, after I teach  _you_  the finer points of—" Ezra stopped, wiggling his eyebrows salaciously.

She blushed, grinning. "Get  _out._  You're distracting me again." Sabine pushed him out of the bedroom.

* * *

"Alright, what is it you needed with 'that blue paint?'" Sabine asked, walking briskly in the room and holding a small applicator can.

Ezra just pointed up. High up, where the wall met the ceiling, was a long scuff in the paint—the result of a rather  _energetic_  sparring match that had occurred between them late one night after a few too many Tihaars. They wrestled, they laughed, Ezra discovered Sabine was devilishly ticklish, and at some point in the scuffle, one of her prized WESTAR blasters had been sent sailing through the air. Right into the ceiling.

"Riiiight." Sabine eyed the gash, remembering the night. They still hadn't been intimate yet—not after she had tried to throw herself at him just after he had come home—but that night they had gotten very,  _very_  close. Neither had felt it was the right time, but it still made for a memorable evening.

"So what's the plan, Master Jedi?" Sabine noted that the mark was well out of reach for either of them.

"Welllll I could lift you..." Ezra started.

"Oh  _no_ , we're not doing that again. You have entirely too much fun floating me around like some training ball." Sabine quipped, rejecting that plan outright.

"I was  _going_  to say, before I was rudely interrupted, lift you up on my shoulders and you could use your amazing talents to paint over the mark." Ezra gave her his best  _I am not amused_  expression.

She rolled her eyes, clearly not buying it. "Uh huh. I'm sure you were totally going to pass on the chance to lift me up to the ceiling with the Force and not let me down until you stopped finding it funny. Kneel down."

"I wasn't!" Ezra objected, but did as he was told. Sabine climbed onto his shoulders, paint can in hand, and Ezra rose carefully to his feet. "Besides, I can do that any time I want. I don't really  _have_  to ask you."

That remark earned Ezra a firm swat on the top of his head.

"You do if you want to sleep in our bed for the rest of the week," Sabine replied sweetly. "And for the record, this color is called  _celeste_. It's a very light shade of blue that I thought brightened the room."

"Right.  _Celeste_. I'll remember  _that_  forever." Ezra deadpanned.

She ruffled his hair. "Shush and move me closer.".

Ezra did, and Sabine strained to reach the marred paint, stretching high and nearly toppling herself off-balance. "They make droids for this, you know," she groused, giving the wall an even spray.

"True, but a droid doesn't offer such interesting opportunities," Ezra said, jumping at the chance to turn her words around on her. He brushed his fingertips on the soles of her bare feet. She jerked and made a strangled sound that was halfway between a gasp and a laugh.

" _Ugh_ —I walked right into that one." She dug her heels in his sides. "Stop distracting me"

"Why should I?" Ezra shifted from side to side like he was about to drop her. "You're entirely at my mercy."

"Because." Her reply was sinister and there was the slightest pause before—

"That's why." Ezra heard the light whisper of the paint canister and felt a puff of air on his forehead.

"You did not just do that!" He howled, running over to the couch and dropping a cackling Sabine onto the cushions.

"You play with fire," she blurted between fits of giggles, "you get burned!"

"Ugh! It's everywhere!" Ezra shouted, wiping his face and smearing the blue—no,  _celeste—_ paint all over his face and hands.

"You're just mad it's not orange!" Sabine was still doubled over laughing.

"Alright, Wren. That's how it is?" Ezra gave her an evil look. The long-forgotten sponge flew into his hands from the kitchen, and in one motion he caught it, wound up, and flung it straight at the snickering girl on the couch.

She gasped, smearing soap off her neck. "And that's three." Sabine said, regaining enough composure to return his glare. In a flash she shot out off the couch, paint can raised like a weapon, and tackled Ezra to the floor.

Ezra was prepared for it of course; being a Jedi wasn't just useful in a real battle. He rolled with the leap and soon had one of his arms wrapped around her, completely restricting her movement, the other making its way toward the hand with the paint can.

"Not bad for noodle arms, huh?" He asked breathily while Sabine wriggled in his grasp, still laughing.

Sabine knew she'd been had. In a last vain effort, she threw the paint can as far as she could across the room, only realizing at the last second that it wouldn't do any good. Ezra could retrieve it with his mind as effortlessly as he pleased.

But Ezra had something else in mind. He maneuvered her around, still holding her close, until she was now facing him, both of laid out on the tower floor.

"You thought you were so clever huh?" He moved his face closer to hers.

She recognized that look in his eyes. "Wait—Ezra, stop! Stop!" She shrieked, but the hand that had been trying for the paint, now without its prize, began tickling her sides and making her weep from laughter.

Ezra brought his face to hers and with one long motion, wiped a large streak of the still-wet paint across her cheek and forehead.

"Now, we're even," he whispered. His face was still a hair's width away, lips grazing hers lightly.

The kiss only lasted a second, long enough for Sabine to pull away and grimace.

" _Gross._  You taste like paint," she said in disgust. She wiped her mouth, getting the pigment on her hand. She and Ezra were both well and covered by now.

"Well whose fault is that?" With a satisfied grin, he finally let her go. She rolled to a sitting position.

" _Yours!"_  She tried to sound angry, but giggled as soon as she saw him. "You look like a Chiss."

"So do you," he retorted. Then his eyes widened. "Wait. This  _is_  water soluble, right?"

She inhaled sharply; it was not. Sabine locked eyes with him. "Shower?"

"Shower."

And they were off.


	13. Must Have Been Easy

Must Have Been Easy

Ezra and Sabine sat at the kitchen table finishing their breakfast. His spoon hovered over his bowl of cereal, neither coming nor going. He was distracted by the article he was reading on the Holo-Net.

He whistled low. "The Rax system is  _still_  cleaning up from that skirmish between the Alliance and the Empire in their orbit three years ago."

"Mm." Sabine acknowledged as she took a sip of caf. "That was bad. Hera told me all about it. She flew in that one—almost died."

Even though the danger was long past, Ezra felt fear settle hard in the pit of his stomach. "Where was Jacen?"

"With me," Sabine said. "I had him some of the time, mostly when Hera had to fly combat. The Empire never bothered coming back here. Lothal was one of the safest places for him."

"Wow." Ezra took a bite of cereal and then talked around the mouthful. "Lothal had it easy during the war."

"What?"

Eyes still buried in his datapad, he mistook her question as her not being able to understand him talking with a full mouth. "It must have been easy here, during the war," he reiterated, "not as much to worry about."

Sabine's mug tapped on the table top. "Easy?" Her voice was low.

"Without the Empire occupying, sure," he said. Uncertainty colored his tone. "You told me yourself: nothing major happened after the Seventh Fleet left." He glanced at her. The look in her eyes made his stomach churn. "Right? Isn't that what you said?"

"You are—" Sabine swore under breath. "You are  _kidding_ me, right?"

Ezra suddenly realized he'd struck a nerve, and it made him panic because he didn't know there had been a nerve to strike. He desperately tried to backpedal. "I just mean—it would have been worse if the Empire—I mean—Lothal—"

"Had it  _easy,_ " she hissed. "I heard you the first two times."

"Sabine—"

She pushed back from the table, standing. "What do you think we  _did_ here, Ezra, during the war? Sat on our thumbs? Do you think I was having  _fun_ while I had Jacen, praying to all the gods in the galaxy Hera wouldn't die? Do you think I was  _enjoying_ wondering whether or not  _you_ were even alive, or whether you'd ever come back? Do you think I and the other billion citizens of Lothal  _liked_ waking up every day in fear that the Empire might target us again?"

_"No,"_ he said quickly, "of course that's not—"

She snorted derisively, walking over to the sink with her now-empty mug. She stood absolutely still for a moment, and then threw the mug in the sink so hard that it shattered. Dark red splotches covered her face and neck. Her voice was uneven. "Kriff you."

Ezra wanted so desperately to take the last three minutes and erase them from existence. He hadn't meant to make light of what she'd been through. Honest to gods, he hadn't. He stood slowly, advancing toward her. She took a half-step back, eyes welling with tears. He couldn't tell whether she was more angry or hurt. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean it like that."

He reached for her hand and she inhaled sharply, tensing. "Do  _not._ Touch me," she choked. He let go and she shoved roughly past him, bolting for the door. It whooshed open and she left, all but running. The sound of her harsh breathing echoed in his ears.

What the  _kriff_ _?_

* * *

Ezra spent the first hour after their...fight? laying in the floor levitating his lightsaber above his head. He wasn't trying to figure out  _what_ had happened—he'd stuck his foot in his mouth; nothing new there. Rather, he was trying to figure out  _why_ it had happened. It had been years since one of his tactless-but-well-meaning comments had elicited more than a pained eyeroll from Sabine. She'd learned to take him with a grain of salt. This, though—this was different. Without even trying to, he'd been able to sense a shift in her presence in the Force. Her usual bright light had been replaced by something tight and dark and—

Anxious. That was it.

As soon as he stated—stupidly—how the war must have been easy on Lothal, she'd become anxious, like she was remembering something she didn't want to. Ezra's lightsaber hilt clattered on the floor as his concentration lapsed. "Come on, Sabine," he said. His voice sounded strange in the empty room. "Talk to me." He thought about seeking her out; conventional wisdom said he should have followed her out of the tower when she left, but his years with her on the  _Ghost_ said that when she wanted to be alone, she wanted to be  _alone._

Ezra sighed, pushing up off the ground as he called his lightsaber to his hand. He wandered aimlessly through the living area. As he passed a shelf in the corner of the room, a small box caught his eye. Idly, he picked it up and opened it. The thing was full of holo-discs. He knew he hadn't left anything like that in the tower; they had to be Sabine's. A wiser man might have waited to ask her about it, but Ezra's curiosity overrode his good judgment. He took one of the discs and put it in the projector terminal next to their com. Immediately, an image of Sabine sprang to life in front of him.

She was sitting in the floor, glancing nervously at the recorder. Her hair was long, falling over her shoulders, and Ezra found himself almost overcome by the desire to tangle his fingers in the strands. He reached for the holo without even realizing what he was doing; his hand passed right through the image, of course, but there was a soft smile on Sabine's face, as if she knew. She opened her mouth and words came pouring out.

_"Remember that one time I told you I thought it was dumb how lightsaber hilts are so plain and impersonal? I mean, you should—I went on about it for like ten minutes. Well...about that."_

The camera turned and he saw his lightsaber hilt in the floor along with several different brushes and paints. Ezra felt the weapon at his hip now and fingered the coating of paint, still pristine. She'd told him she'd painted it, but she hadn't mentioned she'd recorded herself doing it. Maybe she'd forgotten. Ezra watched, mesmerized, as she talked through the process, talking about which paints she picked and why, talking about her eagerness to continue training with the saber upon his return, talking about how she felt about him and how she missed him. The more she talked, the more she struggled for control until, finally, she ended the recording with a gruff  _Spectre_ _Five out._

After the holo faded to nothing, Ezra sat in stunned silence. He reached for another holo-recording, and then another after that. She'd filmed herself over the span of several years, in several different places on Lothal; the market where they'd first met, the remains of the rebel base camp in the caves, the memorial at the fuel depot. Her words were touching and tender and raw; Ezra found himself clearing his throat and swiping at his eyes more than once. He'd wondered before if Sabine hadn't been entirely transparent about just how badly his absence had affected her. Seeing her holo messages reawakened those suspicions. The Sabine in the holos wasn't the confident and sure Sabine he knew now; he'd seen something fragile in her eyes that'd he never seen before, heard a note of brokenness he was sure she'd tried to keep hidden.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. Whatever had happened then, she  _was_ better now, wasn't she? Yes—she was. He knew she was. And he also knew how quickly and violently buried hurts could come back to haunt you; hadn't they been going through that with his nightmares? Just a few nights ago, he'd woken choking on darkness, reaching for Sabine, needing assurances that she was safe even though he  _knew_ she was. Sabine had been his rock through all of it, never wavering. He'd been dimly aware that she'd struggled with things while he was gone; she'd told him about the crushing loneliness she'd felt sometimes. But that was all she'd said. Before today, he'd never had a reason to think it had been any worse than that.

Guilt coiled tightly in his stomach. He should have known.

Before he realized what he was doing, he keyed a code on the com and prayed Hera would pick up. She did.

Her image flickered in front of him and he was suddenly tongue-tied. Her brows drew together. "I'd say it's nice to hear from you," she began slowly, "but I get the feeling this isn't strictly a social call."

Ezra rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

Hera smiled. "Are you going to spill it or do I have to drag it out of you?"

"I don't—I don't even really know what to say." Ezra rolled his eyes hard, mostly at himself. "Not a whole lot, I guess. It would feel unfair to Sabine, somehow. I don't know." He grumbled a sigh. "I don't know why I called."

"Did you two...have a fight?"

"I don't even know what happened. I mean—I  _do._ We were talking about Lothal and the war and I accidentally said something stupid and she just—Hera, the  _look_ on her face. And then I found some old holo-recordings she made..." He shifted uncomfortably. "It got bad for her while I was gone, didn't it? I mean, worse than she's said."

Hera's expression was guarded as she very obviously debated with herself about what to tell him. "Has she...mentioned me visiting her right after the Battle of Endor?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so."

"Oh." Hera's eyes widened and her lips set in a thin line. "Alright." She sighed, glancing at something in the distance. "I need to get Jacen to bed and then I'm going to call you right back. There...are a few things I think you need to know."

* * *

Sabine went to the  _Gauntlet_ with the intention of channeling her anger into something productive by catching up on maintenance chores. Well—she  _tried_ to channel her anger into something productive. She spent her first few minutes aboard throwing tools at the ramp. She stopped that when she accidentally hit the ramp access panel, sparks flying as the unit shorted out. She cursed a blue streak, knowing it would take hours to fix that alone. She sank down and sat against the wall. The durasteel paneling felt cool against her back. It calmed her.

She wasn't angry at Ezra. Not really. Annoyed, maybe, at his simple-minded suggestion that things on Lothal were easy during the war just because the Empire was gone; but she knew what he really meant. And he wasn't wrong. Even during the war's tense moments, things on Lothal  _were_ a lot easier than on other worlds. Safer. That was true. But—but. Sabine remembered too well the myriad of days when living on Lothal had been everything  _but_ easy for her, and it had everything to do with Ezra being gone.

How alarmingly  _fast_ it all came flooding back. One second she was sitting at the table listening to Ezra stick his foot in his mouth and the next, the blood in her veins just  _froze_ when she remembered how she'd sat at that same table two years ago eyeing her blaster from across the room...

Ezra had the audacity to imply that she'd had it  _easy?_

Sabine shuddered. That was so far behind her—wasn't it? Why did that anxiety, that fear, that emptiness suddenly feel like something hot and gnawing in her chest? She'd  _dealt_ with all that, for kark's sake. And Ezra was hers and home and safe now. So why were her hands shaking?

Sabine jerked, startled, when the com started beeping. Surely it wasn't Ezra—he'd have just walked down here if he wanted to talk to her. But if he was going to do that, he'd have done it hours ago, she reasoned. She was both pleased and displeased that he hadn't, but she shoved that feeling aside as she pushed the "accept call" button on the com unit. Hera's image flickered to life and she was frowning intently.

It unnerved Sabine. "What?" She asked edgily.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Excu— _what?_ " Sabine felt her face flushing and she bit the inside of her lip, struggling to keep calm. "What in the—" She stopped short, lowering her voice. "Is Jacen still up?"

Confusion crossed Hera's face. "No?"

"Then— _what_ in karking  _hells_ is your problem?" Stupid, hot tears spilled onto her cheeks and she swiped them away. "Seriously, Hera. Hello to you, too."

Hera sighed, closing her eyes for several seconds. "I'm sorry," she said at last, mollified. "I—do I need to be worried about you?"

Sabine shook her head, not understanding. "What? No, we're doing fine—"

"No," Hera countered, "you're not doing 'fine.' Do you know Ezra's completely tied up in knots over whatever went down between the two of you? He has no idea what happened or why. He blames himself, though. Does that sound 'fine' to you?"

Sabine felt her anger start to seep away and aching emptiness take its place. She thought of the look in Ezra's eyes when she'd refused to let him reconcile with her. When she'd pushed him away. He'd looked so...hurt and taken aback and confused. Then she'd left the tower knowing full well he wouldn't come after her—after all those years on the  _Ghost,_ he'd been conditioned  _not_ to. She'd always wielded her temper like a weapon, and he'd learned early on to avoid her. Guilt knotted in Sabine's stomach. She  _hated_ that. She hated that he'd learned to walk on eggshells around her. She hated that she'd gotten so comfortable keeping him at arm's length instead of letting her guard down. She hated that he felt it was a safer option to talk to Hera than to come and seek her out.

She knew they wouldn't get far if that didn't change—if  _she_ didn't change. "What did he tell you?" She asked wearily.

"Not a lot—he didn't want to violate your privacy. I inferred a lot on my own. You—fought?"

"If by 'fought,' you mean I ripped his head off, then, yeah. We fought." Sabine picked at her cuticles. "He was talking about Lothal and the war and I just kind of—freaked."

"I was afraid of that." Hera folded her arms. "Why haven't you talked to him about everything?"

Sabine's eyes widened. "There was no  _need,_ " she said sharply. "I dealt with it. You remember; you were there."

"Sabine." Her name was little more than a pained sigh from the older woman's lips. "I  _dealt_ with Kanan dying—that doesn't mean the grief doesn't flare when I least expect it to. Things don't just go away because life gets better.  _Especially_ if you're not talking to the one person in the whole galaxy who can help you through it."

"I thought I was  _fine._ " She reiterated the statement—as if that would make it truer—between clenched teeth. "I was going to talk to him. I just—the nightmares—he needed me."

"What he needs is for you to be honest with him. About everything. He needs you to let him in. Let him love you, Sabine."

The gentle admonishment nearly caused Sabine to come undone. "I can't relive it, Hera. I can't."

"No one is asking you to. But you  _have_ to get to where you can be honest, Sabine. It would break my heart to see you make the same mistakes I did."

Silence fell for a long moment. Finally, Sabine nodded. "Okay."

Hera blinked rapidly, as if she was clearing tears from her eyes. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, even if you have a funny way of showing it." Sabine tried to sound grudging and failed miserably. "I love you, too, Hera. Spectre Five out."

She cut the transmission and sat in the pilot's seat for a long time after that, crying until her guilt and fear and anxiety ebbed away into numbness.

* * *

Hera was very clear about not wanting to get too much into Ezra and Sabine's business, so the advice she gave Ezra was very simple:  _Just love her._

The  _even when she makes it difficult_ was heavily implied.

Ezra knew he could do that.

He just wished he'd known much,  _much_ sooner about the depth of pain Sabine carried through his absence. He wished he knew more about it now; Hera hadn't been very forthcoming about that, either. But she'd said enough to make him realize Sabine had faced quite a few demons—and won, yes, but faced them all the same. He wanted to share that with her, to take her in his arms and soothe the hurt. She was still gone, though, aboard the  _Gauntlet_ or roaming Lothal's plains or doing whatever it was she'd needed to do. Nightfall came and went, darkness settling over the tower and the city beyond. Ezra resolved to wait up for Sabine, as long as it took for her to come back to him, and then they'd talk and—

Ezra woke to a soft kiss on his temple as Sabine lay down in bed beside him. He didn't say anything, but reached for her hand.

"I, um…" She spoke after several still moments, her voice low and hoarse as if she'd spent time crying. "I need help re-wiring the  _Gauntlet's_ interior ramp control panel."

"No, you don't," Ezra answered in surprise. "You could do that with your eyes closed."

" _Haar'chak_ _,_ Ezra." She swore under her breath. "Let me make peace."

He was silent for a beat, realization dawning just a half second late. "Oh."

"I—want to apologize for earlier, Ezra." She sounded tired and anxious and he hated that. He shook his head.

"Come here." He pulled her to him and she came willingly, letting him wrap his arms around her and stroke her back with long, soothing motions. "I'm sorry," he whispered against the top of her head. "I'm sorry."

They both knew he wasn't talking about what happened earlier.

"I missed you," she said jerkily. "Sometimes so much I—was drowning in it—and all that— _stuff—_ just kind of—"

"Came back," he supplied. "I know. I know." He knew better than to ask her if she wanted to talk about it; she was already being more open about it now than she had in the last six months. When she was ready to tell him the rest, he knew she would. He waited for her muscles to relax and her breathing to slow before he said carefully, "I found the holo-recordings you left for me."

She made a sound that was almost like a laugh, her breath hot on his skin. "Well, you started it."

He remembered the message he'd left for her eyes only. "I did. I, uh, I liked your long hair," Ezra said shyly. "It was beautiful. Like—I just wanted to run my hands through it."

Sabine shivered delicately, imagining him doing that very thing. "Want me to grow it out?"

"If—if  _you_  want to."

She hummed. "It'll take years, Ezra. I'm not even kidding. You sure you want to wait that long?"

He tightened his arms around her. "I'm a patient man."

It was a tacit assurance: Yes, I'm still going to be here with you a few years from now. Yes, I'll be patient while you find the strength you need to open up to me.

Sabine kissed his neck and he hummed his contentment. "I'll hold you to that," she murmured.

He nodded. "Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100% of the headcanon I'm using to write this from has been taken from RagnarDanneskjold's fic "Crumbling," so I highly recommend you read it! It's good stuff, plus, when I reference something that happened while Ezra was gone for those five years or whatever, you won't be going, "where the heck is she getting this from?"


	14. A Family Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was self-indulgent and fun to write, let me tell you. I love and adore little Jacen Syndulla.

A Family Reunion

This was the coolest thing ever because Jacen loved Lothal and he loved Bean and he'd always loved hearing her stories about Ezra and the Loth-wolves and the Loth-cats (why did everything on Lothal have two names? He needed to remember to ask mama). Only now, it wouldn't be just  _stories._ Ezra was  _there_ —with Bean; were they married?—and he probably had his lightsaber with him and he probably still did know some Loth-wolves and Loth-cats. And he could tell lots more stories about Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight, probably. (Jacen liked thinking about his father as  _Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight_ sometimes because it made him feel so  _proud_ to know that his papa had been a hero.)

Mama talked about him, but not much when it came to Jedi stuff. No—when it came to Jedi stuff, her mouth stopped smiling and her lekku stopped swaying, and Jacen knew that meant  _No more._ It didn't make her angry. It just made her sad, and that was worse than angry. And—he figured out recently—it made her feel scared, the same way he felt scared that one time in the market when he'd let go of her hand and he lost her and he didn't know what to do.

She didn't  _tell_  him she was scared, of course—that's not what mamas do—he just  _knew_ it.

Maybe Ezra could help. And maybe Ezra could show him  _the exact spot_ where his papa had helped save Lothal. He'd asked mama to show him, just once, and he'd felt a cold, crying feeling in his chest so bad when she looked at him with her big, green eyes open real wide. He couldn't bear to ask her again, but—he wanted to.

He almost forgot about asking her at all because the day before they left for Lothal,  _Zeb came back and said he was going on the trip with them and that was_ _ **double exciting.**_

* * *

"Why are you acting weird?" Jacen asked as he jogged to catch up to Zeb. The Lasat had hardly said anything funny at all the whole way there and that was very unusual. Jacen felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned; mama was giving him that  _Hush, now_ look she was good at. "What?" He whispered loudly. "He is."

"I think Jacen's trying to ask if you're okay, Zeb." The tone of mama's voice was asking it, too.

Zeb's big shoulders shrugged. "I'm  _okay_ , Hera," he said. He sounded like he was  _not_ okay, but Jacen knew better than to argue. He looked at mama and she gave him half a smile and a shake of her head. Jacen wedged his little hand into Zeb's massive one. The Lasat held more tightly than usual—not  _too_ tightly, of course; as strong as Zeb was, he never once hurt Jacen, not even on accident—tighter than the time they went with mama to a ceremony on Coruscant and Zeb was worried Jacen would get lost.

"Hey," Jacen said suddenly, "are you nervous of seeing Ezra? You shouldn't be. He told me some stoooo _ries_ about you two. He said you were like brothers. If  _I_ had a brother, I'd be happy to see him after a long time. Mama, can't—" There was a soft yank on his hand and he stopped talking right away; he looked up to see Zeb's lips pressed together tight as he shook his head.

"Right," Jacen whispered to himself. He and Zeb had talked, not too long ago, about things that made mama  _too_ sad; wondering what would be like to have a little brother was one of them.

Zeb winked at Jacen and nodded. "Yeah. We were like brothers. You're right, Jace."

Jacen wanted to ask:  _Well if you're brothers, then why aren't you more glad to see him?_ He was too little still to understand anything about the fall of Lasan or how hard it had been for Zeb to connect to anyone after, and just how deeply he felt Kanan's death and Ezra's disappearance because of that. The little boy was mercifully oblivious to most of the pain that the grown-ups in his life carried with them, for which they were grateful; Jacen's starry-eyed outlook on life reminded them of simpler things. To him, this wasn't the long-awaited reunion between two friends. It was just a precious and rare opportunity to have all his favorite grown-ups collected in one place. When he saw Ezra and Sabine walking toward them, about halfway between the tower and the  _Ghost_ , he broke free of Zeb with a wild screech.

"Ezra! Bean!" He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, launching himself at the pair. Ezra was the one who grabbed him, tickling his belly until Jacen was just shrieking with laughter. But, the little boy noticed, Ezra was really looking at Zeb and mama. Jacen lunged over, looping his arms around Sabine's neck. "Hi, Bean."

"Hi, baby." She hugged him tight, but her eyes were on Zeb and Ezra; they were standing in front of each other now.

After a long minute, Zeb spoke first. "What in karking  _hells_  is on your face?" He asked roughly.

Ezra palmed the two-week-old growth on his cheeks and chin. "Thought I'd try a beard."

"It's not staying," Sabine muttered.

"I'm with her," Zeb said with disgust. "It makes you look—"

"Mature? Worldly? Debonair?"

"Stupid. It makes you look stupid."

Zeb and Ezra stared hard at each other and then they laughed and they hugged—but not the way mama and Sabine always did, Jacen observed, but by patting real hard on the back. And then that turned into pushing and shoving and jabbing—something Jacen was eager to participate in. He dropped out of Sabine's grasp and ran at Ezra and Zeb, going for a tackle. His meager weight did nothing to upset either of their balance, but Zeb fell over anyway and Ezra followed, wrestling Jacen down into a wriggling, giggling ball.

Hera and Sabine stepped past them, the Twi'lek slipping an arm around the younger woman's waist. "Just like old times," she murmured contentedly.

* * *

Jacen was in heaven. It had always been a dream of his to hang out with  _all_ the Spectres all at the same time and this was great. They talked, they joked, they ate together—mama even let him stay up well past bedtime, when the grownups where just sitting drinking caf and talking to each other in the living room. They were making plans about what to do tomorrow, and that reminded Jacen he had a question. Half-asleep and warm and comfortable where he was sitting between Ezra and Sabine, Jacen asked drowsily, "Ezra, can you take me to see where my papa saved everybody?"

Mama and Sabine and Zeb had been talking to each other quietly, but they stopped and it was almost like they stopped breathing, too, because they all got very, very still. Only Ezra didn't stiffen up. He put one big arm around Jacen and squeezed. But his eyes did that darting thing as all the adults looked at each other. (When grown-ups did that, Jacen had observed, it was because they either didn't  _know_ the answer to your question, or didn't  _want_ to tell you.) Jacen looked at mama; her face was a little bit the wrong color green and her eyebrows were doing that jumpy thing like when she was trying very, very hard not to cry. Zeb and Ezra were also looking at mama, but Sabine—whose cheeks weren't softly pink like they usually were when she was close to Ezra—was staring hard into Ezra's eyes.

At the same time mama said very faintly, "I don't mind," Sabine said, " _Can_ you?" Her voice was a little too high and it wobbled.

Ezra took a slow breath. Jacen felt bad for him; he knew how uncomfortable it was to have mama and Bean frowning at you like that at the same time. But Ezra was calm. "If Hera has no problem, I have no problem."

"Jacen, get pajamas on and brush your teeth, please. Wait for me to come tuck you in." Mama's tone of voice meant  _no nonsense,_ so Jacen was quick to obedience. He hopped up, quickly circulating the room with hugs goodnight for everyone. His heart was beating way too fast, because he was afraid everyone wouldn't have gotten so upset if he hadn't asked Ezra about going to that place. He felt his face go all hot as he walked down the hall and his eyes started leaking and then he heard mama's quick footsteps behind him. She scooped him up and held him tight and he put his face on her shoulder.

"Of course Ezra can take you, love," she whispered. Her voice was right in his ear and her breath was warm. "Of course you can go. I'll go, too."

He nodded and mama sat down with him in her lap, right there in the hallway, and she didn't let him go for a long time.

* * *

When the Spectres stood together at the memorial site, holding hands, even Jacen had silent tears running down his cheeks. He could  _feel_ the love and the sadness there and it made his heart ache. But it was a good kind of ache. He said so to mama.

She smiled and she kissed his hair and she said, "I think so, too, love," she said. "I think so, too."

He could tell that she meant it.

* * *

The memorial ended up being one of Jacen's favorite places to visit on Lothal. The plants and ponds and bugs provided endless hours of exploration, and so did the stories he was hearing about Kanan. It was easy to see how Jacen delighted in hearing about how he himself had  _been there,_ safe and protected in his mother's belly the night that history changed course. Someone took him to the site nearly every day of the visit—even Hera, a couple of times.

Mostly, though, Jacen wanted to with Ezra and Zeb because it was hard to pass up the chance to hang out with "the boys" when hanging out with "the girls" was almost all he'd known for the first several years of his life. (Plus—there was a cool park near the memorial site that this wicked-looking set of monkey-bars. Ezra and Zeb let him do flips on those that Hera and Sabine  _never_ would have.)

One afternoon ended sulkily, though, with Jacen cradling a scraped arm as Zeb and Ezra led him out of the park. They didn't make it far before Zeb scooped Jacen up and threw him on his shoulders; the boy was dragging his feet petulantly and they were moving at a snail's pace.

"Cheer up, kid," Zeb said. "A little soap and water and that arm'll be good as new." Ezra gave the Lasat a sidelong glance; they both knew that soap and water were  _not_  in the future. Antiseptic solution was, though, and that was going to come as unwelcome news to Jacen.

"What happened, anyway?" Ezra asked, eager to redirect the conversation. "You fall off the monkey-bars? I didn't see."

"Ugh,  _no,_ " Jacen answered, disgusted. "We were playing and this mean girl just  _pushed_ me."

It took all of Ezra's natural and Force-drawn strength not to laugh. Zeb was not as disciplined. "A mean girl!" He chortled. "You're too young for that mess."

Jacen hunched over, looking into Zeb's face from upside down. "What mess?"

"Don't listen to Zeb," Ezra warned with a glare.

The Lasat grinned toothily. "Girls are only mean to boys they  _like_."

"Wha—" Jacen gasped. "You mean like— _boyfriend and girlfriend?_ "

"Exactly like."

"Gross!" A pause. "I don't believe you. Prove it."

Zeb looked at Ezra and Ezra elbowed him hard in the ribs because he  _knew_ where this was going.  _Zeb,_ _ **no**_ , he mouthed. Zeb cheerfully ignored him. "Ask Ezra. Sabine was mean to him for  _years_ before they—" He stopped, fishing for an approximately accurate phrase. "Were boyfriend and girlfriend."

At that, Jacen perked right up. "Ezra, Bean is your  _girlfriend?_ "

Ezra cringed;  _girlfriend_ was too childish and small a word to describe what Sabine was to him. But nothing else fit, either. "Yeah," he said slowly. "She is."

Jacen scoffed. "You're sayin' that like you don't even  _like_ her."

"Yeah," Zeb chimed in, mimicking the little boy's tone of voice. "Don't you even  _like_ Sabine?"

Ezra knew Zeb was just trying to get a rise out of him and it was absolutely working.  _"Of course I like her,"_ he ground out. "She's—" Courageous, beautiful, tender, funny, tough, understanding, infuriating, enthralling. He wasn't about to say  _any_ of that to Zeb—not while he was intent on being juvenile—and Jacen wouldn't understand. "She's just  _Sabine_ ," he finished lamely.

"'Just Sabine,'" the Lasat crowed. "The highest compliment a woman could ever hope to hear. We should tell her, Jacen."

_"Zeb."_

Jacen was happily oblivious to the war of dirty looks and mouthed curses taking place between the two adults. "You gonna put a piece for her on your kalikori?"

Ezra stopped dead in his tracks. "Am I—" He didn't bother explaining that neither Mandalorians nor Lothalians had kalikoris; the spirit of the question was clear enough. Marriage—Hera would have explained adding a non-family member to your kalikori as being tantamount to marriage. "I—maybe—if she—"

Zeb, aware this had taken a very uncomfortable turn for Ezra, masterfully redirected the conversation. "And what about  _you,_ kid? You gonna add that playground girl to yours?"

"Don't be dumb!" Jacen sounded a comic mixture of outraged and horrified. "Mama says that when you do that it should only be for someone  _so important_ and that you gotta make a good decision 'cause it's a  _perm'nent_  decision and I don't know what that  _means,_ but it sounds like a big deal and..."

Ezra stopped listening as Jacen rattled on, dazed by the enormity of the idea of marrying Sabine. The kid was certainly right about one thing: it was a big deal. And he didn't mind that at all.

* * *

Hera and Sabine agreed to clean the kitchen if Ezra and Zeb would cook; it was a decision they were regretting. Not because Ezra wasn't a good cook (Zeb mostly watched and kept Jacen from sticking his hands on the burners). He was, in fact, a  _great_  cook—something Sabine was going to have to ask about later. She was pretty sure that he'd only been capable of making toast and cold cereal six years ago. But talented as he was now, he wasn't overly efficient; Sabine and Hera had been left with a bigger pile of cookware and utensils than they knew what to do with. With Jacen playing outside with the messy chef and his assistant, they decided to have a glass of wine each before tackling the clean-up.

Hera swirled the pink liquid in her glass, pretending to look at it with interest. "So," she began lightly, "when do you think this will become a permanent arrangement?"

Sabine eyed the chaotic nightmare of a mess by the sink. " _Never_ ," she answered, wide-eyed. "Zeb and Ezra are only stepping foot in this kitchen over my dead body." She noticed Hera giving her a flat stare over the rim of her glass. Realization suddenly dawned. "Aaand that's not what you were asking me." She frowned. "Has anything given you the impression that this  _isn't_ permanent?"

The answer was no; in fact, Hera had been pleasantly surprised to find that Ezra and Sabine were doing much better than she expected, given the extent of things they'd had to work through the last several months. "No," she said honestly. "But there's permanent and then there's  _acknowledging_  that it's permanent. Have you two...talked about that?"

Another question to which the answer was no.

Sabine shifted uncomfortably. "Not—like you're talking about." Her eyes narrowed as her mind tried to move through the muddy waters of Hera's insinuation. Marriage—she was pretty sure they were talking about marriage. She kept waiting for a cold, hard, panicked fear to settle in the pit of her stomach at the idea of getting  _married_ —it didn't. "We...haven't been avoiding it or anything. It just hasn't come up, I guess." Sabine heard the sound of her own voice like it was coming from far away.

Hera hummed. "What about...?" She let the rest of that sentence drop suggestively, arching an eyebrow.

Sabine downed what was left of her wine in one, enormous gulp. The flush on her cheeks had nothing to do with the alcohol. This talk was moving somewhere Sabine didn't want it to, but she couldn't pass up on the opportunity to embarrass the life out of Hera. She clasped her hands and leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Are you asking if I've made Ezra my lover?"

Dark green splotches started creeping up Hera's neck. "I take it back."

"Well, the answer is no," Sabine said softly, turning serious. "Almost—a couple of times—but we're not—" She stopped short, sighing. " _I'm_ not ready. And he knows that. He's not—pushing or anything. He knows...it's still hard for me to be totally open with him. I don't really...want to bring that into bed with us, you know?"

Hera reached across the table to squeeze Sabine's hand. "I do. And I think that's wise. You should stay with that until...until the time is right."

Sabine picked up the wine bottle and poured herself another half-glass. She was tempted to probe into Kanan and Hera's relationship, dimly aware that she could probably learn a lot from their missteps. But that would probably be better done with a clear mind; the wine was already making her feel fuzzy around the edges. And anyway, she wanted to keep the mood light. Her mouth twitched as she brought her glass up. "You know...a whole lot of your advice seems to fall under the 'do as I say and not as I do' header. I hope Jacen doesn't ever hear you intimating you wish you'd waited to hop in the sack with Kanan. Might give him a complex." Sabine's grin was absolutely wicked.

Hera snatched her glass and the bottle away. "I think you've had enough," she said primly. She stood up. "Come on—this mess won't clean itself."

* * *

Nobody had dry eyes as Jacen, Hera, and Zeb prepared to board the  _Ghost_. Jacen least of all as he clung to Sabine and Ezra, an arm around each of them.

"I love you guys too much to go," he wailed as Hera pulled him off.

"We love you, too," Sabine said. She kissed his cheek for the dozenth time. She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I think Ezra likes hanging out with you better than he likes hanging out with me."

"That's not true," Jacen argued. He shoved his palm across his face, smearing tears everywhere as he put his head on Hera's shoulder. "He likes  _you_ most of all. He said so to me'n'Zeb."

Ezra blushed and Hera and Zeb exchanged knowing glances. Sabine just smiled. "Yeah, I guess I'm stuck with him. But there's still a big place in my heart for my Jacen, okay?"

"'Kay."

The adults had said their goodbyes previously, not wanting to make this any harder on Jacen than it had to be. After one last, quick round of hugs, the  _Ghost_ and its crew departed, leaving Sabine and Ezra standing together on Lothal's plain. She leaned on him, sniffing hard against an onslaught of tears, and he laughed as he put his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.

"Sad that you're 'stuck' with me?"

"Yes," she groused, angry at the moisture on her cheeks. "You're an idiot who doesn't know how to cook without using every pot in existence."

"But I'm  _your_ idiot who doesn't know how to cook without using every pot in existence—right?" He feigned uncertainty and Sabine laughed and her shoulders relaxed and she turned around to kiss him.

"Yeah," she mumbled against his mouth. "You're mine."


	15. Dirty Laundry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RagnarDanneskjold wrote this chapter and it is one of my faves--you'll love it!

Dirty Laundry

"Sabine! Have you seen my shirt?"

Freshly laundered and previously folded clothes were strewn haphazardly around the bedroom, the fruitless result of Ezra's current predicament. Workout pants lay in a crumpled heap by the door. Shirts of various colors and designs were thrown about the room carelessly. Even Sabine's lacey unmentionables fell victim to his search and were scattered about the bed.

"Which shirt are you— _hey!_ What the kriff did you  _do?_  I just folded those!" Sabine stood in the doorway, sheer exasperation on her face.

Ezra looked up at her, two of  _her_ shirts in his hand, poised in mid-throw. "I'll put it all back!" He covered, trying to wipe the guilty look off his face and redirect the conversation back to more important matters. "And you  _know_  which shirt I'm talking about."

She did. She knew all too well from the moment she heard him ask from the other room what this was about, and she'd hoped the chance to get on him for messing up the laundry would allow her a respite from what would surely come. It wasn't working.

It was time for a new tactic. Perhaps ignorance?

She crossed her arms. "You have a lot of shirts now Ezra.  _Manda_  knows you needed them. Which one are you looking for, exactly?" Sabine moved about the room, picking up discarded garments and giving off an air of distracted indifference and not daring to look him in the eye.

"My orange one. The only one you let me keep. You know that's my favorite shirt Sabine. Tell me you didn't lose it when you did laundry." Ezra said, giving her an even look.

"Oh, that old thing?" Sabine asked, pretending like she was just remembering what he meant. "I'm sure it's around here somewhere. Did you check the closet?"

"I was just about to." Ezra latched on to that last thread of hope and rushed to the bedroom closet, dropping the clothes he had been holding right on the floor behind him.

" _Ezra!_  Could you at least  _try_  to keep things orderly around here? I'm not your protocol droid you know." Sabine shot sourly.

"I said I'd fix it!"

"Stuffing everything into drawers or back in the hamper doesn't count, Ezra." Sabine sighed, surveying the mess he had made.

There was a long, guilty pause before he answered. "I  _know_  that, Sabine. I'm not a child."

"Keep looking in there. I'll...check...out here" Sabine retreated quietly to the bedroom door. She wasn't sure he had even heard her.

* * *

Sabine was in a bind. She knew it, and soon, Ezra would too. There was no escaping her fate this time. She briefly regretted pestering Ezra into throwing out every last one of his old orange outfits, worn and threadbare relics from a bygone age though they were. He'd clung to those stupid garish shirts for well past their expiration date. Lacking anything resembling fashion sense of his own, one of the first things Sabine had done when he'd returned was taken him shopping, just as she'd promised. He was certainly more dashing now, almost respectable even.

But he'd insisted on keeping his old clothes, the ones he'd worn day in and day out in their youth on the  _Ghost._  Sabine, for her part, had insisted the tattered and scruffy shirts see their way into the nearest refuse slot. In the end, they'd compromised and he'd kept just one, normally wearing it around the house on lazy days like today. She still wouldn't stand him wearing it in public, not with her in tow, and over time, the shirt had become a bit of a running joke between them; her making no secret of her utter disdain for it, and him attempting to rush out at the last minute wearing it on a date or shopping trip.

But Sabine did have a secret. Well two now. First...she loved the shirt. Not on him mind you. On him it looked almost as ridiculous as that beard he'd attempted. No, Sabine loved it  _on herself_. There was something oddly comforting about it. She'd slip it on when she knew he would be gone for hours, laying around the house, taking in his scent and feeling the soft fabric on her bare skin. She'd snuck it out of his drawer on many occasions for just that purpose, only sneaking it back in at the last minute when she heard the tower lift activate. It was one of the reasons she insisted on doing the pair's laundry, that and the fact Ezra was hopeless at it. He'd come home more than once to find her walking out of their room topless and in the middle of slipping one of her own shirts. It was a shameless distraction tactic, but it  _did_  keep his mind off what she had been doing changing clothes in the middle of the day.

Her second secret, however, was much more distressing, for it was the one that lead to today's problem. Sabine, despite her protestations, knew  _exactly_  where the offending shirt was. At the moment, it was wadded up inside her art supplies cabinet, someplace she knew Ezra would never think to check.

Sabine stood in from of the cabinet, looking over her shoulder one last time. She could still hear Ezra making a mess in the bedroom. She opened the door and withdrew the shirt, unfurling it in her hands.

It was no longer orange. Not entirely, anyway. Across the front, right on the chest, was a large splotch of pink paint.

Sabine clutched the shirt to her chest and bowed her head, muttering to herself and taking one last moment before plunging forward. "Ezra?" She said quietly, tiptoeing through the door, her hands behind her back. He was still in the closet, but stopped moving when she'd entered the room, even before she'd spoken.

Ezra stepped out of the closet, his eyes tracing up her body, keenly noting the placement of her hands. He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, waiting for her. Somehow, he must have known.

_Hera warned me about this,_ she thought bitterly. She vividly remembered Hera telling her how many times Kanan had  _appeared_  to buy into a clever excuse or fib, only to reveal later that his abilities told him far more than he let on.

"Whacha got there?" Ezra asked. He looked stern and dispassionate, but he was unable to keep the tiniest corner of his mouth from raising in a smile.

"So...I found your shirt...and..." She began timidly, hating that he was the one person in the galaxy who could disarm her normally intimidating and fiery Mandalorian persona.

"And?" He prompted, raising an eyebrow. Her eyes narrowed for half an instant; he was playing this too cool. Like he was enjoying it. But she continued.

"And well...I know you're gonna be mad, but I..." Wincing, she finally raised her eyes from the floor to look at him. He was grinning widely.

"And you got pink paint on it when you were wearing it yesterday," Ezra finished for her, gloating. Sabine's mouth fell open.

"You knew?" She stammered. "Why did you... _all this?_ " Sabine looked around the room at the mess of clothing.

"Come on, I had to mess with you a little. You do owe me that for destroying my shirt." Ezra told her, smirking and soaking in every bit of her confusion. "The only thing I can't figure out is why you didn't just tell me you've been wearing it when you thought I wouldn't notice. I'd have given it to you if you'd asked."

"You—" Sabine stopped, mouth gaping. A pleased, girlish flush stained her cheeks even as she tried to look indignant. "You would not."

"Would too," he argued. "Why  _wouldn't_ I want you to have it? I can only imagine how much more..." He trailed off, eyes tracing the curves of her hips and legs. "... _attractive_ it would look on you than on me."

Her breath caught and she was half-tempted to kiss him senseless because when he looked at her like that, it was hard to keep from doing anything else—but she blurted instead: "I didn't tell you because—because I'm not that kind of girl."

His face scrunched in confusion. "What kind of girl?"

"The kind who's so..." She waved a hand, made a disgusted expression. "... _needy_ that she has to wear her hu— _her boyfriend's clothes_ when he's gone just to—to—"

"It's a comfortable shirt," he said evenly. His gaze was firm and understanding. "Nothing wrong with that."

She faltered, and she thought maybe later she'd tell him how many times in his absence she'd let herself feel the fabric beneath her fingertips and no more. She stuck her hand out and he took it, drawing close. "It smells like you now," she said, just barely making eye contact with him. "It didn't used to."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She tilted her head back and he teased her with his mouth just barely brushing hers.

"It's yours." He kissed her too lightly for satisfaction. "But I warn you—I might steal it back from time to time."

She almost forgot to answer. "Why?"

"Because it smells like  _you_  now, too."

"You'll—you'll have to peel it off me, Ezra Bridger," she said, voice husky and low.  _Force_ , she loved him.

His eyebrows waggled. "Is that a promise?"

"Mm." She tiptoed, leaned in like she was  _really_ going to kiss him, and at the last second, she ducked out of his grasp and backed away, grinning wickedly. "But nothing like that is  _ever_ going to happen until this—" She swung her arm out in an expansive gesture, showcasing the room and the laundry he'd thrown all over the place. "—is  _completely_ put back to rights."

He gave her a fake frown. "You fight dirty, Mandalorian."

She turned, walking out of the room, and she could feel his gaze on her every step of the way. "You like it that way, Jedi."


	16. Plans

* * *

Plans

Ezra shot up in bed, eyes scanning the darkness for a threat he could hardly remember now as the nightmare quickly faded. His breathing was rapid and shallow, muscles trembling, body damp with sweat. He focused hard on orienting himself to the present and his surroundings. He could feel the slight dip of the mattress beneath his hands, cool air on his face, the blankets tangled up with his legs; he could hear rain on the rooftop, the creak of metal as the tower swayed in the wind, the sound of Sabine's soft, sleep-slow breaths; he could smell the spiced sweetness of her lotion on her skin and the bitterness of an abandoned cup of caf sitting on his nightstand; he reminded himself that he was here, he was safe, and so was she.

On his way to calm now, Ezra was almost ready to lay back down and try to sleep again, but anxiety nagged at him until he  _had_ to be sure Sabine was alright. Gently, he brushed the backs of his fingers against the side of her neck. Her skin was warm and soft and he could feel the steadiness of her pulse. Relief surged and tears pricked his eyes. He held his head in his hands, struggling to maintain composure.

Beside him, Sabine stirred. She must have reached over to turn on her lamp, because the room was suddenly flooded with a dim light. She sat up, looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. She said his name quietly before she scooted close and put her arm around him. He only barely flinched as she touched him. She waited for the tension to ease between his shoulder blades before she said, "What do you need?"

"Just this," he sighed. "You."

She threaded her fingers through his hair, fingernails grazing his scalp. "A nightmare?"

The sound of her voice, roughened by sleep and close to his ear, made him forget for a moment whether his heart was pounding from adrenaline left over from the dream or a surge of pure want as Sabine leaned into his side. Maybe it was both. "Yeah."

"Was it bad?" Her eyes narrowed and he knew she was ready to catch him in a lie if she needed to.

"By the time I woke up, it was gone. Couldn't remember," he answered truthfully. "Just the...panic was leftover."

She nodded, tightening her hold on him. "You're safe. I'm safe. We're alright."

He wanted to say  _I know_  but what he blurted instead was: "Don't you get tired of this?"

The subtext  _Because I do; I'm tired of seeing you wake up in the middle of the night worried about me_ was almost as clearly heard as the rain on the roof.

Moving so that she was sitting on her knees in front of him, Sabine framed his face in her hands. "No,  _cyar'ika_ ," she said tenderly. "Never."

Her eyes were warm and so full of compassion—it was overwhelming. Ezra kissed her forehead and then pulled her to him, laying down. He could feel her heart beat against his chest and his breathing eventually slowed to match hers, lulling him back into drowsiness. Her weight and closeness kept him grounded. It wasn't the first time they'd spent the night like this. It wasn't the first time he'd woken in a panic, or even the twentieth. She never showed the tiniest spark of irritation or impatience. She never failed to listen to him talk through it, or to offer soothing words and touches when he couldn't.

"You're amazing," he said, thinking out loud.

Her answering laugh was just a quiet puff of air through her nose. "It'll take more than some bad dreams to scare me off, Ezra Bridger." Her tone softened. "And don't say it that way; you know I have demons, too."

He did know. "Any tonight?"

"No."

"Would you tell me?"

"Yes." She kissed his jaw, sealing the promise. "I would."

Satisfied, Ezra let it drop. For a while, he trailed his fingers up and down her spine, listening to the sound of their contented silence. It was on his tongue to tell her he wanted to  _always_ be this close to her, but she was already half-asleep again, and he finally gave in to drowsiness too. The nightmare didn't return.

* * *

Ezra's first conscious thought the next morning was,  _I want to marry her._

It wasn't the first time he'd thought that. It had been something he'd contemplated fuzzily, years ago. The idea seemed to become more of an attainable reality after she found him and they started building their life together. But ever since Jacen's oh-so-innocent suggestion that he add Sabine to his kalikori, he'd hardly been able to think of anything else.

He wanted to spend the rest of his days with her, to experience the good, the bad, and the ugly with her; and hadn't they already done that? They hadn't talked about marriage, but Ezra was sure, more than anything, that he wanted Sabine Wren to be his wife.

And he was  _pretty sure_ that if he asked, she'd say yes. Still, a little natural doubt remained, and he spent a lot of time trying to find a way to casually approach the subject of marriage in conversation with her. If she was onto him, she didn't say anything about it, which he took as a good sign either way. He was working up to straight-out asking her what she thought about it—slowly. He was _slowly_  getting there.

Sabine seemed to have a few preoccupations of her own. She'd come home from running errands with an  _I'm thinking about something_ look in her eyes, absently humming as she cooked dinner and spent her evening in front of a canvas,  _looking_ at the artwork more than adding to it. But she seemed happy, if distracted, so Ezra didn't press.

When it was time for bed, he'd gone before her and she'd promised to follow soon. Just needed to shower, she said, maybe do some laundry. He tried to wait up for her, catching up on the HoloNews.

He wasn't quite sure when he'd dozed off. One minute, he'd been sitting up against the headboard, listening to news from the Mid-Rim, and the next, he jerked awake when his chin touched his chest, neck aching from being slumped at an odd angle. A tired irritation flared and he rubbed his eyes.

"Why'd you let me sleep like that?" He mumbled, shifting to lie down properly. He put his arm out, expecting to wrap it around Sabine's waist and pull her closer, but she wasn't there. Propping up on one elbow, he opened his eyes fully and saw that not only was her side of the bed empty and cold, there was no indication she'd ever been there. And all the lights were on. Everywhere. Now fully alert, he could hear her moving around in the kitchen. He tapped the chrono on his bedside table. It was zero two hundred. With a groan, Ezra got out of bed and shuffled down the hall.

He found her standing at the counter, preoccupied with putting sweetener and creamer in the caf she'd just poured. "Sabine," he began suspiciously, drawing up beside her. "You know what time it is, right?"

"Mhmm." She took a long, careful sip, letting the liquid warm and soothe her from the inside out. "I'm too wound up to sleep," she admitted. She flicked her eyes up to his and back down again.

"And you thought caf would  _help_ with that?" A frown started between his eyes. She leaned back against the counter top, legs crossed at the ankles, looking like she intended to stay there until she was  _un-_ wound up and ready for bed. Gently, he slid one hand along the curve of her waist, letting it rest on her hip. He thumbed the small gap of exposed skin between her sleep shirt and shorts. "What's going on?"

He took it as a good sign that she leaned closer instead of pulling away. "Nothing bad," she began slowly. "Just something I'm not sure about. Well…" She backtracked, organizing her thoughts as she spoke. " _I'm_ sure about it; I just—"

"Don't know what  _I'm_  going to say," he guessed.

She nodded, biting her lip. "I don't want you to misunderstand."

Her words might have struck uncertainty into the heart of a lesser man, but Ezra knew Sabine was only trying to be open with him, and he loved her all the more for it. And he couldn't resist teasing her. He widened his eyes in mock-horror. "There's another man, isn't there? That tall Pantoran we saw—"

She gasped, punching him in the shoulder. "Ezra Bridger, I  _swear_. I don't know how you could even  _think_ —"

"I don't, I don't!" He cried, laughing. He caught her hand, poised for another swat, and kissed the back of it. She glared hard, but he was sure he saw the corner of her mouth pulling up just the tiniest bit. He locked eyes with her so she'd know he meant what he said. "Whatever you have to say,  _cyar'ika_ , I'm listening. Don't be afraid—just talk to me."

Sabine's eyes brightened at the endearment spoken so tenderly in her native tongue. "Okay," she said with a small smile. She set her caf aside, braced her palms on the countertop, and swung herself up to sit on top of it. Ezra moved to stand between her knees, looking slightly up at her now. He held her hands, fingers loosely twined, silently encouraging her to continue.

She took a slow, deep breath. "You remember I told you I spent a year teaching art at one of the Capital City primary schools—right before I came to find you?"

Ezra squinted in confusion; of all the places he'd thought this conversation could possibly go, he hadn't thought it'd be here. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, I ran into the administrator while I was at the market today. She…said that my old position is coming open again at the end of this year."

She held his gaze and the pieces started to click. "Are you gonna take it?"

"I—told her I'd get back to her within the week. I wanted to talk to you first."

He knew that wasn't all. "So talk to me."

"I think I'm…getting restless, Ezra." Her eyes shifted uneasily and she all but held her breath, waiting for him to respond. He almost laughed, pointing to her neglected cup of caf.

"I could have told you that." He leaned up to kiss her cheek. "Go on."

"These last several months have been  _incredible_ with you. I—still can't believe it's real, sometimes." She stopped, taking a tense breath. "You know I love you, right?"

"You  _never_ have to doubt that."

"Okay, good—I just—I think it's time for us to…find a new rhythm. Move forward. As much as I want to, we can't spend the rest of our lives the way we've spent the last few months. We can't—"

"Stay wrapped up in each other," he finished, understanding.

"Yeah." Her eyebrows drew together, almost wincing. "I've  _loved_ this time, Ezra, but I'm ready for something different, too.  _With_ you. Just—a new phase."

He nodded slowly. "I agree."

Surprise was plain on her face. "You do?"

He really did. It was something that had been on his mind lately as he thought more and more about their future together. They'd  _needed_ this time together to reclaim the last five years, but Sabine was right; they needed to move forward, too. Finding something to do outside of spending time together was a healthy step to take.  _And_ —if she'd thought about their future this far, then  _maybe,_ maybe he wasn't amiss in thinking now was a good time to bring up marriage. His heart slammed against his ribs, anticipation and excitement and nerves driving him absolutely crazy. But he kept himself in check. Narrowly.

"Yeah," he said, squeezing her hand. "I do. I know you loved that job, and if the opportunity is open, you should take it."

She faltered, looking like she was about to try and talk herself out of it for his sake. "It's not like we  _need_ to work." She gnawed her lower lip. "Between working with Ryder and teaching, I still have a good savings and you— _you_ have that mysterious stash from that thing-with-pirates you're still tight-lipped about. So...we'll be fine for..." Her lips moved silently as she calculated. "A  _while_ if you—"

"Sabine." He laid a finger over her mouth and he leaned in close. "Take the job."

Pure joy sparked in her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She threw her arms around him and wrapped her legs around his waist. He lifted her easily off the counter, laughing. He started walking toward their bedroom, hoping—although not really expecting—that with this settled, she'd relax and go to sleep. A flick of his fingers turned the lights out behind them. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, but Sabine didn't extricate herself from him. Her expression turned thoughtful as she ran her fingers through the hair at his temples.

"What is it?" He asked.

"When I go back to work," she started slowly, "what will you do? Do you—" She stopped, pressing her lips together in a tight line. "Word from the Core is that Luke Skywalker is trying to re-establish the Jedi Order."

It was a statement and a question and he understood.

"I wish him well," Ezra said, "but that's not my path. When Kanan started training me, I wanted to become a Jedi so that I could do some good on Lothal." He cupped her chin in his hand. "I don't intend to leave again. Skywalker can have his Order. I have all I need right here."

Sabine exhaled a tense breath. "You're sure?"

"Very." It seemed like every muscle in her body relaxed then, and he wondered how long she'd been carrying the worry that he might choose being a Jedi over being with her. "I've never been more sure of anything."

She nodded. "Okay." She pecked a quick kiss to his cheek and smiled brightly as she climbed off his lap and walked around to her side of the bed. "There's still another four months until the new term starts, you know. Loads of time for us to spend together."

Ezra turned off his nightstand light and lay down, pulling the covers up under his chin. His eyes drooped closed as soon as his head hit the pillow. "If you're about to follow that statement up with something about cleaning and organizing, forget it," he mumbled.

Her light turned off and the room went dark. The bed shifted as she rolled onto her side. "I'll need help cleaning and organizing before school starts."

He was drowsy and only distantly aware of her fingers lacing through his. "Okay."

"I love you,  _cyar'ika_ ," she whispered.

And he loved her, too, and his last thought before he fell back to sleep was that he was determined to make sure that when she went back to school, she'd go as  _Mrs. Bridger._

He just needed to make a plan.


	17. Sounds Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know you’re hoping this chapter will be the proposal, and…it isn’t. Sorry. BUT! It’s coming and I’ve got approximately a whole bunch of upcoming chapters full of nothing but Ezrabine fluff and happiness. Honest. You should see my outline. This….just isn’t one aaaand neither is the next one, exactly. Final trip into angst land, y’all. This and the next chapter are mine and RagnarDanneskjold’s answer (pretty much all his excellent idea, tbh) to addressing some things that happened/are going to happen in “Crumbling,” the fic that pretty much inspired this one. I promise this is getting to the fluffy parts. Don’t give up on me!!

Sounds Good 

Sabine slouched lazily in the  _Gauntlet’s_  front seat, swiveling from side to side like a restless child as Hera’s holo-image flickered in front of her. The Twi’lek’s eyes were narrow. 

“Sabine,” she sighed, long-suffering. “Did you hear the last three things I said?” 

“I think Ezra’s planning something.” That non-answer nudged the count to four things she hadn’t heard Hera say.  

If Hera was annoyed, she didn’t let it show. “Planning what?” 

 _“Something.”_  

“Like— _oh._ ” Hera grinned, looking more like a giddy teenager than a world-wise general and mother of a six-year-old. “Well…are you going to say yes?” 

Sabine opened her mouth to answer in the affirmative, but only a wheezed sigh came out.  

Hera’s eyes widened in alarm.  _“Sabine!”_  

“Calm down.” The Mandalorian’s voice was soft, apprehensive. “I  _want_ to say yes—I’m  _going_ to say yes—I just…don’t feel like I can yet.” 

“Why?” 

Sabine looked at her hands, self-conscious. “I don’t—I don’t—I think that if someone is willing to make the commitment to marry you, then they should know all…all the…” Her mouth worked silently as words failed. Hera knew exactly how to step it. 

“All the things about you that make you feel most vulnerable,” she supplied quietly. “I know. Is…this about—” 

“About after the Battle of Endor, yeah.” Sabine rolled her lips inward and bit down.  

Hera rubbed her forehead. “I understand where you’re coming from,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I do. But I also think…it was a long time ago now, Sabine.” She paused. “And that’s not where you’re at anymore.” 

There was a ghost of a smile. “I know, and I’m glad. But…I still want him to know. I—I guess I’m scared, though, that he’ll look at me like—” 

“Like he loves you. That’s all.” Hera was firm. “Trust him and trust yourself.” 

“Yeah.” Sabine tipped her head back, staring at the ship’s ceiling. She was quiet for several minutes, Hera still patiently waiting, and then she smiled. “I guess…I’m gonna be Ezra’s  _wife._ ” Her nose scrunched and she laughed. “That sounds so…so…” 

It was Hera’s turn to make a face, one which clearly suggested she thought it was strange to think of two of her “kids” marrying each other. “Surreal?” 

Sabine looked out the viewscreen, watching Ezra as he extinguished his saber and knelt in the grass. His shoulders relaxed and a satisfied peace smoothed his features as he centered himself, meditating. Emotion squeezed around her heart. He looked so— _him_. “Good,” she said, catching her breath. “It sounds good.” 


	18. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A guest chapter! Ragnar__Danneskjold did an absolutely brilliant job with this one. He created some wonderfully poignant moments here between Ezra and Sabine and I'm so excited to share this with you! As I said before, this addresses some things that happened/will happen in his fic "Crumbling," so if you want to know where all my headcanon is coming from, definitely go read that if you haven't already!

Questions 

Ezra's eyes opened just in time to see a purple tuft of hair peek over the railing. Sabine was climbing the ladder to the roof of the tower one-handed, holding two mugs precariously in her other hand, though doing an admirable job not spilling either. 

"Good timing, I just finished meditating," Ezra said, smiling at her awkward position. 

Sabine was clinging to the railing with one arm, giving him a perturbed look. "A little help?"  

"The mighty Mandalorian warrior, asking a  _Jedi_  for help? Don't tell your mother." His expression was deadpan. 

"Shut it and help, or I'm throwing your caf over the side," she threatened, holding the cups out behind her.  

Ezra's lips twitched. "Let go," he said simply. 

It was a long way down to the observation deck below, and even further to the ground. And Sabine was without her jetpack or armor. She did as he asked without question or hesitation. 

The moment Sabine's fingers loosened around the railing, she felt the most peculiar sensation, one she was sure she'd never get used to. Her skin tingled slightly, and she felt weightless, like she might have in space with no artificial gravity. Her body lifted gracefully into the air and over the railing, wafting gently to where Ezra had laid out a thick blanket and small lantern, and she landed softly on her feet. 

"Thanks," she said. She leaned down to set the mugs on the ground and she gave him a peck on the cheek. "You've gotten a lot better at that" 

"I've had a lot of practice." Ezra picked up a mug and took a sip. "Besides, couldn't let this go to waste" 

"Oh well as long as you have your caf delivery, I guess my business here is finished." Sabine rolled her eyes as she pushed his legs apart so she could lay into his chest. She pulled a second blanket up over their legs, humming her contentment. "Why'd you come up here anyway? You usually meditate in our room." Sabine asked, taking a sip of her own beverage. 

"Look up." Ezra gestured to the night sky. 

Sabine did so and was briefly awestruck by the sight. For someone who had spent many of her formative years in space, it still amazed her to really  _look_  at the stars. Up there they were just balls of gas, navigational hazards, background noise. But down here, looking up at them while in the arms of one you loved, there was something almost magical about it. Every so often, a bright streak appeared in the night sky, flaring briefly and then disappearing into the horizon.  

"Wow," Sabine whispered.  

"Yeah." Ezra said, absentmindedly running his hands through his hair.  

Sabine turned for a second, looking at the wonderstruck expression on his face. She smiled softly and then settled back down, his arms loosely around her, her head on his shoulder. Over half an hour passed before she spoke again, breaking the peaceful silence between them. "I used to come up here sometimes," she said. "In the morning, when you were..." Her voice caught in her throat. 

"So that's when that started." He pulled her close, knowing she needed the confirmation of his presence. 

"What do you mean?"  

"You still come up here in the morning, when you think I'm asleep," he said, letting her in on a secret of his own. "I can sense you, remember?" 

Sabine gave him a skeptical look. "So you're spying on me, huh?" 

"Oh, all the time. You have no idea." Ezra laughed and then he shook his head. "No, it's not like that, really." 

"What's it like?" She asked. There was nothing demanding in her tone; she was genuinely curious. 

Ezra sat silently for a moment, thinking of the best way to word his answer. "Well, you know where your hands and feet are right now right?" 

"Yeah," she answered quickly, thinking she knew what he was getting at. 

"It's like that for me, but with you. I just...know. You're always there. You don't have to be thinking about where your foot is when you're walking or where your hands are when you're painting. You just know. Because they're part of you. Well, you're part of me. And I just know. I can tell more if I concentrate, but I try not to do that" 

"How come?" She was fascinated to be getting the answers to some things she'd been wondering about all the Jedi mysticism for some time. 

"Well...a connection through the Force is a very personal thing. The closer you are to someone, the stronger it gets. I had it with Kanan, though it was a little different, obviously," Ezra said. He was both surprised and pleased that he could speak about Kanan now without choking up. He knew in the back of his mind it would please Kanan too to know that his death was no longer a source for such acute pain. 

He went on. "Ours started a long time ago, but it's really grown since you found me. And because it's so strong, there's a lot that it can tell you. Or me in this case." 

"Like what?" She asked, settling back into him. She pulled a bright pink marker from her small bag and began doodling on Ezra's hand while he spoke. 

"All sorts of things. What you're doing, what you might do next, where you are, what you're feeling...even what you're thinking". Ezra said hesitantly. 

"You can read my mind?" Sabine asked, shocked enough to stop her drawing and look at him. 

"Well that's why I said I don't concentrate on it. One of the first things Kanan taught me was that using the Force against the mind of another sentient being can be a very dangerous thing, for the Jedi and the other person. It's also very  _wrong_ , which is part of what makes it so dangerous." 

"Dark side stuff?" She asked quietly. 

"Dark side stuff." He answered with a shudder. 

"So you don't do that with me?" She felt she already knew the answer, but wanted to hear him say it. 

He looked her in the eye. "Never. Not even once."  

"I think I knew that," she said softly, squeezing his arm. "I don't know how, but I knew." She went back to doodling for a few minutes, but couldn't keep herself from thinking back to their times together and apart. "What about those times when you could sense I was angry or you knew what I was about to do before I did it?" 

"Caught on to that huh?" Ezra chuckled. 

"Uh huh. Don't dodge. This is the first time we've ever really talked about this stuff. You Jedi are always so secretive."  

"Well, since you asked, think of it this way. What's the difference between me asking you a question and you telling me the answer, and you just yelling the answer at the top of your lungs without being asked." 

Sabine considered. "So you're saying I sort of broadcast it sometimes?" 

"Heh, sometimes.” Ezra chortled.  “But yeah, pretty much. A lot of the time it's not really so much trying to read your emotions or intentions, but just noticing them. Most people project that sort of thing more than they know. You especially," he added, teasing. 

She grumbled, too caught up in trying to understand to get the joke. "Ugh—do I really? That must be exhausting." She paused long enough to notice that it wasn't her feelings being laid bare to him that bothered her, but how that must affect  _him._  She really had grown. 

"It's not bad. I got used to that about you sometime around my third year on the  _Ghost_. Now it would be weird if you weren't like that. Besides, it can be helpful sometimes." He told her, letting her go back to her drawing. 

"I  _knew_  you were cheating!" She exclaimed, pretending to be exasperated. "All those times when you knew when to leave me alone or when to get me caf or give me a massage. You thought you were being so smooth, didn't you?" 

"You caught me," Ezra said jovially. "But honestly, no that's not really it. Maybe at first, but I'd like to think I've learned enough about you by now not to have to resort to that." 

"Yeah, well you got all that learning by cheating. I had to do it the hard way. How do you think I learned how you like your caf, or that you like to sleep in, or that you like the window cracked in the morning but not at night? By watching you. I didn't have any fancy Force magic, mister." She lifted her chin in triumph, feeling she'd won an argument they weren't even having. Her Mandalorian heritage was hard to deny, and she never passed up the chance to feel like she'd won something. 

He held up his hands. "Hey, cut me some slack. I'm not the one who always keeps everything bottled up. And I'm not a good enough art critic to be able to see what you're feeling through that." He thought he heard a quiet  _I'll say_  under Sabine's breath. "If I had to resort to some mild trickery to be a better boyfriend, I'll take the heat for it." He knew she wasn't really mad, but wanted to smooth things over just in case.  

Sabine sighed. Getting past her armor, real or emotional, was a challenge for anyone, and she had to admit she much preferred it now that Ezra had managed to pull it off. "You're right," she said simply. 

"I am?" Ezra was taken aback; he'd been expecting a little more resistance. 

"Yes, you are," she said seriously. "I know I'm...not the easiest person to be around or get to know. And you've been patient with me for a long time. I know it wasn't easy for you getting through to me, but you did it." She put her marker down and held his hand. "So if you had to rely on your freaky powers to do it sometimes, I can't really hold that against you. I also can't say I'm not pleased with the results. So here we are."  

"Wow, thanks Sabine," Ezra said awkwardly. He hadn't been prepared for her emotional concession. 

"I still say you're cheating though" Sabine teased, turning around and sticking her tongue out at him. "And even without the Force, I still know you better than you know me." 

"Oh, you think so, huh?"  

"I  _do_ know you. Probably better than you know yourself."  

"Oh yeah, what's my favorite color?" Ezra asked, his hand slowly moving along her body towards her very sensitive sides. 

She rolled her eyes. "Really? That's what you ask to test me? Everyone in the galaxy knows it's orange, Ezra. The only reason why you aren't wearing orange right now is because I made you buy other clothes. And if that hand keeps moving where I think it is, this little date is going to be over," she admonished. 

"Hey, I was starting you out easy on purpose. And don't worry about my hand, I have more questions."  

"Fine, ask away." She reached with her own hand to stop his, which was getting dangerously close to her armpit. 

"What's my favorite animal?"  

"Does all of them count?" 

"Nope. Pick one." 

"Cats."  

"You mean  _Loth_ -cats?" Ezra asked playfully. 

Sabine groaned. "Can we please stop it with that? Loth-flu. Loth-cats. Loth-wolves. I'm not going to forget where we are Ezra, I promise." 

"But you're a citizen now, Sabine. You gotta adapt to the culture." 

"Well, maybe I'm going to help change a bit of that culture. Bring some Mandalorian flare to things. And adding 'Loth' to everything is stupid." 

"You're stupid," Ezra retorted lamely. 

Sabine laughed. "Oh,  _real_  romantic. Insulting your girlfriend on date night. Do we need a repeat of our first date?" 

"Uggh. We agreed not to talk about that."  

"Well, sometimes you need a little reminder." Sabine said sweetly. "Don't worry, I'll make a respectable boyfriend out of you yet. Rule number one: don't call your girlfriend stupid while she's laying in your arms if you want her to keep laying there." 

"First painting lessons, now dating lessons huh? How was I so lucky to get such a talented woman." Sarcasm dripped from every word. 

"And don't you forget it." She patted his hand condescendingly. "Out of questions already? I was just starting to have fun with this." 

"Well if you want to have fun, you can always let go of my hand and let it wander..." He answered devilishly.  

"Right after you called me stupid? Fat chance of that. Alright smart guy, what's  _my_  favorite color and animal?" Sabine turned to look him in the eye. 

"First, you don't have a favorite color. You love all of them because each one allows you to express something different in your art. Second, you don't have a favorite animal, either. But I do know you hate Loth-cats—sorry,  _cats_ _._ " His grin was smug and not sorry at all. She ignored it. 

"So you  _were_  listening to my lesson. Not bad."  

"I have my moments." Ezra crowed, taking another sip of his drink. 

She tipped her head back, kissing his jaw. "Not many of them, but you do have them."  

"Alright, let's turn this around. What's your favorite of  _my_  many charming qualities?" Ezra asked. 

"Such a long list. How can I possible choose just one?" Sabine deadpanned.  

"Hey if there's another guy you'd rather be up here with, I can give you some time." 

She swatted his leg. "Rule number two, which you've broken before, don't bring up other guys to your girlfriend while on a date." Sabine told him matter-of-factly. "But since I  _am_  stuck here with you, are you asking about physical qualities, or personality?" 

"Why not both?" Ezra answered, jumping at the chance to get two compliments in one. 

"Hmmmm." Sabine hummed, pretending to think hard. "Physically, definitely your eyes. I could get lost in them for hours." 

"Well aren't you a sweet talker" He planted a quick kiss on the top of her head. 

"I hope you're taking notes. And as far as your personality goes..." Sabine looked over her shoulder at him, a sarcastic answer forming on her lips, but when she saw his face she knew he was actually curious. A brief pang of regret stabbed at her as she remembered all the times she'd turned him down when they were young. Despite his frequent and loud boasts, she did know him well enough to know there was a fair amount of self-doubt and shyness buried in there somewhere, something she suspected she had unfortunately played a role in growing. 

She decided to help fix that and give him a real answer from the heart. "Actually...the list for this one might take all night. But, you did only ask for one. And you've seen the recordings I made for you. So if I had to pick my favorite...I'm gonna go with how selfless you are." 

Ezra was ready to just accept that answer as-is, but Sabine continued. 

"And I don't just mean in the big things. Fighting or risking your life. I mean everyday things—the way you let someone else go ahead of you at the market, or help a stranger carry something heavy in the street, or let me have the last bit of caf in the pot. You're not demanding or loud about it. These things are just second nature. I  _love_ that about you. And—" She stopped short, humming in uncertainty before she continued. "Even when you need something from me, you're thinking of me first. Like when you knew I wasn't being truthful about what happened when you were gone, you didn't push me." 

"Of course not," he said softly. 

"But you  _could_ have." She pulled his arms around her. "And you didn't." She paused and a playful smile pulled at her lips. "What about me?"  

"What about you?" He replied. 

"Don't I get any compliments?"  

"Letting you live with me isn’t enough?" Ezra said, feeling her growl and loving how easy it was to push her buttons. The jab was really a stalling tactic; when it came to the things he loved about Sabine, he was hard-pressed to pick a favorite. "I love—I love your tenacity," he said at last, turning serious. "And your strength."  

She didn't say anything, but her surprise and self-doubt were evident in the way she tensed and caught her breath. He tightened his arms around her, scolding as he kissed her forehead. "Don't give me that. You handle things with more grace than anyone I've ever met, Sabine. The way you handled the darksaber, Lothal, the war, finding me—you've been so  _strong._ You're amazing." 

"I'm...glad you think so,  _cyar'ika_ ," she murmured simply. 

Sabine fell silent for a long time, simply watching the end of the meteor shower and feeling the warmth of her beloved envelop her. She wanted nothing more than to enjoy this moment forever, unsullied by her own admissions of near betrayal or inadequacy. But she knew she needed to talk to him. Ezra hadn't pushed her to explaining everything that had happened while he had been gone. Not after visiting the memorial, not after her overreaction to his innocuous comments two months before. It was as if he had spent his entire lifetime's supply of pestering annoyance when he was fourteen and had only patience left. And after what he'd told her, of what he admired most about her, she reviled at the thought of breaking his illusion. 

But she knew what she had to do. She owed it to him, to herself, even to Hera. She had to be honest. The past eight months had been a whirlwind of joy. Neither of them had much of anything to do besides spending time together, and it was like the foundation they had built when they were younger, which had been waiting along with them, had erupted into a deep romance neither knew they wanted until they were in over their heads. Years of yearning and growing to be the best partner the other could ever hope for condensed into less than a year. But it was a foundation that couldn't last if built on a lie. Well, not a lie in the strictest sense, but one of omission, which for two people who were supposed to be sharing everything, could be just as poisonous. She felt she needed to tell him. And she had to trust that he would keep being himself, keep loving her as before. If he could, they would get past it.  

As she ruminated and tried to piece together what she might say, she felt his breathing even out and grow slow. Was he falling asleep? 

 _Manda_ _,_   _that sounds wonderful right now_ _,_ she thought. The night air was cool but not too cold, they were too high up for any of the normal insects or pests, the sky was gorgeous, and they, meaning Ezra, had brought nearly every blanket and pillow they owned up here. It would be so easy to just fall asleep with him, let it go another day. There would always be another chance. She could call it a tactical retreat. She could even say she was doing it for his benefit, not wanting to spoil his obviously playful mood and peaceful rest.  

But she meant what she'd said to Hera; she knew that Ezra was going to ask her to marry him soon, and she wanted to be able to say yes without this last shadow of her past hanging over them. The time had come.  

"Ezra?" She whispered, not sure if she was hoping or dreading an answer. Maybe both. 

"Hmm?" He answered quietly.  

"Did I wake you?"  

"No, I was just thinking." He drew his fingers through her hair, eliciting a pleased shiver from her. 

"Can I ask what about?"  

"You can ask. Doesn't mean I'm gonna tell you yet." He said, chuckling softly.  

Sabine didn't reply.  

"You okay,  _cyar'ika_ _?"_  Ezra asked after a few moments. He, of course, already knew the answer. 

Sabine turned in place until she was facing him, wrapping her legs around his waist and leaning her head on his shoulder. Ezra brought the blanket up around her shoulders until only her hair was showing. 

"No." Sabine whispered in his ear. Her voice was broken and trembling. He felt a single tear drop from her cheeks and run down his neck. 

Ezra had known what was coming. He wasn’t entirely sure why she had gotten so upset, but as the pair lay in the dim starlight, he could feel her emotions slowly boiling, fighting with each other, indecision and regret pouring off her like sweat. He also knew not to prod her into doing or saying anything.  

 _Love her_.  

That had been Hera’s advice, and he took it to heart. Nothing too specific or direct. Just a plain directive to be there for her when she needed him, and to never let her down. She would come to him in her own time, and he would always be ready. Now was one of those times. 

“Shh." He whispered in her ear, pulling her close and wrapping the blanket around the both of them even tighter. Sabine was trembling, and not from the mild night air. 

Ezra could sense her trepidation. Her insecurities, grief, regret, embarrassment, and shame were pouring off of her in waves that washed over him with an almost physical sensation. He wanted nothing more in this moment than to take this burden from her. Long years of lessons from Kanan had taught him how to release such emotions into the Force, though he had often not been wise enough to heed those teachings. But he knew he could do it now. For her. 

But he also knew that it could not be something he decided on his own. He had only this night explained to Sabine how terrible using the Force on another person against their will could be, never mind dangerous. The temptation was there, as it always was. Whispers in the back of his mind. Teasing him. Coaxing him. Telling him everything he wanted to hear.  

 _Just this once_ _._  

 _It will be alright_ _._  

 _You have the power to help her_ _._  

 _She’ll never know…_  

No. 

He would not listen to them. He had listened to that sweet voice before, and it had led only to more pain. The brief image of a small golden pyramid, glowing with dark red light flashed through his mind. 

“Sabine…” he whispered hoarsely, shutting his eyes tightly and breathing hard; shutting out that voice and focusing instead on another. The voice of Kanan, which he could still hear to this day as if he was standing in front of him. 

Sabine moved in his arms. She spoke no words, but he knew she was listening. 

“Let me help you.” He reached up to smooth her bright hair. 

Again, she said nothing. But he knew as surely as if she did that her decision had been made. She accepted his help. She would lean on him in her moment of need, letting him take the worst of her pain away so that she could find the strength she needed to talk to him. 

Their connection in the Force had already been made. It had been growing for as long as they knew each other, and it took no effort at this point to act upon. Keeping his eyes closed, Ezra tightened his embrace on her and let his own mind drift around hers, pulling away the sharpest edges of her anger, smoothing over the deepest valleys of her regret. He released it all into the Force itself, and could feel Sabine relax in his embrace. 

She looked up at him, her eyes clearer now, though still laced with tears. Ezra only smiled back at her, warm and comforting, not a trace of scorn or judgment to be found. 

“Ezra…” She began, gathering her strength and feeling a renewed sense of hope. This would be past them soon. “I’m not…who you think I am”. 

Ezra said nothing, knowing it wasn’t time for his own words. 

“You say that I’m strong. That I never give up. I have to tell you that…that I’m not. I’m not as strong as you think I am.” 

Now that the she had begun, the words simply flowed out of her, as if she was unable to stop herself even if she tried. It was a pain that had laid dormant for a long time now. Hera had helped her with the worst of it, showing her what she had to live for, why she not only could keep going, but why she  _should_. And her months reunited with Ezra had almost erased it entirely. 

Almost.  

“When you were gone...I went through a lot. I pretended like you had never left, or that you would be coming back the next day. Except you didn’t. I woke up every morning thinking this would be the day I saw you again, but it never was. It made me furious Ezra. I…I hated you. I hated the Force, the Jedi, Kanan, everyone. Even myself. Mostly myself.” 

Ezra stirred, nearly stopping her so that he could tell her how wrong she had been, but she was adamant now, unwilling to let him hold this off any longer, even for her sake. 

She put a hand on his chest. “No, I need to say this. If we have any future, you need to know.” Her eyes, fierce and lit with a golden fire, bored into his. He nodded and she continued. 

“When you didn’t come back, I hated you. I was this close to leaving Lothal and going back to my family. Giving up on all of this. I was in the cockpit and ready to leave, engines running. And then I saw your recording. The one you left just for me. I don’t know how you did it, but you saw what I was going through in that moment, and you let me keep going on for a little longer. That’s when I made those holos for you; for when you came home.” 

Ezra only listened now. He knew that this was a painful admission for her, but not the worst she had to make. 

“But you didn’t come home. You were still gone. I told myself it was because you were out doing something important, like you always do. That your place was out there, and mine was here. We were each fighting the war in our own way. I lost myself in my work. I distracted myself with just living and waiting. Waiting for you to finally come home….and then the war ended. And you still weren’t here.” 

Sabine voice was beginning to falter again, and Ezra could no longer feel the comforting embrace of the living Force taking the worst of his own emotions away from him. He knew that for this last admission, it would only be him and her. No Jedi, no will of the Force; just a man and a woman dealing with pain by relying on the only thing they had left. Each other. The Force was choosing not to help him this time. This time, he was on his own.  

But not entirely. He wasn’t alone, and neither was she. They had each other. 

“When Hera found me…I was…I…” she stammered, trying to force the words through her lips. The most painful regret she had left. "I was...ready to give up." 

She held his gaze, hardly breathing, watching his expression change and his mouth move silently as he pieced together what she meant. She bit the inside of her lip, drawing blood, anxious in the seconds she was unsure of what his reaction was going to be. The moment the pieces clicked into place, he turned terribly, terribly pale.  

"Sabine." Her name was a whisper, barely there. "Sabine." 

He'd suspected it was something like this, but hearing it didn't make him feel any less heartsore. For a flicker of an instant, an old anger burned in him; if not for Thrawn and the Empire and everything else, he could have  _been_ there for her, she would have never felt that pain and loneliness— 

But they'd walked the paths they did for a reason. 

He let it go. 

 Slowly, he reached for her, resting his hands on either side of her neck, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. He could feel her pulse against his palm and he had never been so grateful that she was here and his and alive.  

"What—happened?" He asked cautiously, quietly.  

She closed her hands around his wrists, anchoring to him. "I didn't...try anything," she said, "but I was drunk like you wouldn't believe and angry and depressed one night and..." Her eyes flicked to his. "My blaster looked...tempting." He opened his mouth to ask why and she shook her head, anticipating the question. "I can't attach a whole lot of rational thought to it, Ezra," she murmured. "It was just...rock bottom and I'm—I'm sorry." 

 _"Sorry?"_ Incredulity colored the word and he gaped at her. 

"I—" Her eyes welled with tears. "I felt like I was betraying you...I don't know...letting you down somehow by even thinking about—you were counting on me to take care of Lothal and come and find you and if I'd—" She looked down at her hands. "I wanted to tell you for so long. I felt like it was this  _thing_ I was hiding from you that you needed to know about me and—" 

"Stop. Breathe." He stroked her forehead and she relaxed under his touch, inhaling deeply. She nodded, and he went on. "I don't need to know all the details, Sabine. I know better than anyone that somethings are...better left in the past." He thought of his parents and Kanan and all the pain of loss. "All I've ever needed is for you to..." He trailed off, getting lost in her eyes and the promise of the future.  

"To what?" She leaned closer to him. 

With his thumb, he traced the border of her lips. "To let me love you," he said. " _All_ of you. That's it." 

She nodded, blinking as tears threatened to spill. And then she smiled radiantly, resting her head on his shoulder. "I can do that," she murmured. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah."   

A makeshift mattress of blankets under them, Ezra lay down, Sabine still in his arms. She curled into him and he felt how every muscle drained of tension, like her whole body was sighing in relief now that she had the weight of past sorrows off her shoulders. For the first time in months, she was content— _really_ content. A shadow had lifted and would never return.  

Ezra felt suddenly light and giddy himself; for weeks he'd had plans in place to ask her to be his wife, but the timing had felt off. He didn't know why, he just knew he needed to be patient a little while longer. But now? 

"Hey," he said after a long silence. "You wanna go somewhere?" 

She made a sound and shifted, coming back from the edges of drowsiness. "Other than to sleep?" 

He laughed. "Not tonight. But soon. You still have a couple months left before school starts and I have something in mind." 

"What?" 

"Just something," he hedged. "Trust me." 

"Mm." She kissed his neck, just below his jaw, because she knew exactly what that would do to his willpower. "You sure you don't want to tell me?" 

He stood his ground—barely. "Positive." 

She pulled away just slightly, tipping her head back so she could look at him. There was a slight crease between her brows. "The last time you had a secret plan—" 

"I promise," he deadpanned, "not to run away with Purrgil and hang out in the Unknown Regions for five years." 

She rolled her eyes before she settled back into him. "Well then," she sighed, feigning reluctance. "I guess we're going on a trip." 


	19. Special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for there to be such a huge gap between updates, but MAN, did the summer get busy. Here's the next chapter, though! This story is slowly working its way to happily ever after! Hope you enjoy. :)

Special

As soon as they began preparing for their trip, Sabine realized Ezra wasn’t going to tell her where they were going. He was tight-lipped about everything—even when she tried to ply those lips open with her own. After her final attempt at seduction failed, she walked away from him disgustedly, muttering about how much easier it used to be to wrap him around her little finger.

Ezra's smile was beyond smug.

Two agonizingly long weeks later, they were on their way to Sabine-didn’t-know-where, sharing too-close quarters on the _Gauntlet,_ and at the beginning stages of well and truly getting on each other’s nerves. Ezra was piloting, and it had already been a very long six hours in hyperspace. Now they’d dropped to a sub-light speed so he could coordinate their next jump. Sabine could almost feel her hair turning grey.

The temptation to nag Ezra was overwhelming, so she got up and paced the ship, thinking surely, _surely_ she could find something to do. And maybe, under any other circumstance, she'd have found something to occupy her mind. The ship had been modified years ago to suit her needs and wishes, now fitted with a good-sized ‘fresher, a galley, a common area with a bench and dejarik table modeled after the _Ghost’s_ , and a small stateroom with a bunk big enough for two. In the cargo area there were two more pull-out bunks, one of them fitted to act as a med-bay. Any of those areas had something that needed attention; she'd noticed the dejarik table shorting out on one side, the water pressure in the shower wasn't quite right, and the medical supplies were in dire need of organization.

She didn't have the patience to take care of any of that today.

She shuffled to the galley, dragging her feet so that Ezra would be sure to hear, and dug through the small pantry until she found what she wanted. Her favorite sweet treat in hand, she thanked her lucky stars she hadn't picked up Hera's penchant for only stocking inexpensive-and-good-for-you rations bars for snacking. With a dramatic sigh, she turned back to the cockpit, dropping into her seat in a lazy slouch. Ezra angled his body over his controls to block her view.

She craned her neck, trying to look at _anything_ on the computer display. Judging by the expression on Ezra's face, he was still having trouble with the next set of hyperspace coordinates. "If you'd let me _help_ ," she said tightly, "this would go a lot faster."

"I told you—I don't _want_ you to help," he snapped back, "because then you'd know where we're headed and it'd ruin the surprise."

Never had the word _surprise_ sounded so much like _I'll kill you if you don't stop._

Sabine sat back in her seat with a huff. "And I told _you_ —I don't like not knowing what's up."

"You agreed to this." He was trying so hard to keep his temper steady. " _I_ said 'let's take a trip,' and _you_ said 'sure.'"

"I did not say 'sure,' and anyway I changed my mind."

His eyes bugged. "Changed your—" He stopped, took a composing breath. "You can't just _change your mind_ in the middle of a hyperspace lane."

She jabbed a finger at the canopy, pointing at the multitude of stars and the small planetoid looming nearby. "We're not _in_ hyperspace," she argued, "because _somebody_ —"

Suddenly, Ezra's face went slack and his body stiffened, his eyes fixed on some distant point beyond. "Shh," he said sharply.

"Don't _shh_ me!" Sabine's ire was hot, but she followed his gaze. "What is it?"

He shook his head and his brows drew together. "I don't—" He jumped up. "You fly—you're better than me," he said, maneuvering her into pilot's seat. "Go, go, go!"

She was too bewildered to do anything other than move her hands over the controls, already piloting them toward the planet below, coaxing every bit of speed from the _Gauntlet_ that she could. "What's going—"

The rest of that question was lost in a shriek when a barrage of blasterfire shook the ship.

* * *

At first, he’d thought she was dead.

Ezra remembered the shriek of metal against earth as the ship ground its way to a stop. He remembered his hands shaking so violently he could barely undo his restraints. He remembered standing over Sabine, slumped and unconscious in her seat. Touching the side of her neck and having it come away wet with blood— _that_ he wished he could forget.

It was like every single one of his worst nightmares playing out in front of him.

But she stirred when he touched her, eyes fluttering open for just a moment, and a deep relief flooded over Ezra. They’d been through too much for everything to just end here and now. It still could—Force knew what other injuries Sabine might have and whether or not their attackers were still pursuing them.

He wished he'd married Sabine that night on the tower roof, recited the Mando'a vows he'd committed to memory months ago and made her his wife. Darkness whispered to him, _You may never have the chance now._

With fear gnawing at his heart, Ezra carried Sabine to the back of the ship and cleaned up her head wound the best he could. Wiping his eyes with his soot and blood-stained hands, he retrieved the med kit from the storage locker and set to placing the various bandages and medical devices on her battered body, not relaxing until the bio-scanner’s automated voice told him Sabine was in stable condition.

In the crash, the port side of the ship had taken brunt of the impact, throwing her against her restraint harness as her head slammed into the console, rendering her unconscious immediately. She woke briefly when he’d moved her, and he took that as a good sign. He tried not to think too hard for the blood dripping from the open gash on her forehead, or how pale she looked.

She was going to be okay, though. The little vital signs reader clamped over her index finger was chirping reassuringly with every beat of her heart and the display showed a normal blood pressure reading. Her presence in the Force was bright and strong; as soon as she woke from her medicine-aided sleep, she’d be fine…ish.

He sat with her until the gash on her head stopped bleeding and then he reluctantly set to work trying to assess the _Gauntlet's_ condition. It was slow going, his mind continually drawn back to the crash. With as much as his field-expedient medical training allowed him to do complete, Ezra placed on last gentle kiss on her forehead and backed slowly out of the room, not even bothering to close the medical kit. He made his way, halfway in a daze, back up to the cockpit to get a better handle on the situation.

Craning his neck to see through the cockpit glass, Ezra looked up at the planet's lavender-hued sky, squinting against midday sun as he tried—for all the good it was going to do—to figure out just what the kriff had happened. One minute he and Sabine had been bickering. The next—Sabine doing everything she knew how to in order to keep the _Gauntlet_ airborne long enough to stick a rough landing instead of crashing outright into the planet's desert mountains. She'd managed to shake their pursuers, but not before the ship took a healthy dose of blasterfire that damaged a whole bunch of things they'd need if they wanted to take off again.

The attack had come out of nowhere, with only seconds to react as the Force screamed a warning. None of the ship's indicators or sensors had showed anything approaching, which meant the other vessel was highly and illegally modified. Out this far, that meant they were dealing with either pirates or slavers or a crime syndicate.

None of those things made Ezra feel warm and fuzzy.

He clenched his fists and turned back inside, anxious to check on Sabine.

_Keep your mind on where you are and what you're doing, Ezra. Focus._

A familiar and comforting voice echoed in his mind. Even now, he was ever the student, and _he_ was still teaching him from beyond. Sabine was fine—focus on the ship. Ezra shook his head; a sharp, piercing pain in his neck made him regret that immediately. But his thoughts had cleared, and he began the task of checking the damage.

Ezra's console had been shorted out and was completely nonfunctional. With a brief prayer, he pressed the button to activate Sabine's dormant controls, seeing them sputter to life as the ship’s computer poured a distressingly long list of problems across her screen. He sat in the co-pilot's chair, the station he normally assumed whenever the couple was out, and felt something crinkle beneath his weight. He reached for the object and held it in his hands. It was the wrapper to one of those spiced chocolate treats from Capital City that Sabine liked so much.

"And you're always telling me to clean up after myself." His voice cracked as he placed the wrapper gently in his pocket. He didn't know why he kept it; he didn't have too much time to dwell on sentiment. He needed to see if he could get their ship space-worthy again.

Ezra was pretty sure it _would_ fly again. He’d done what repairs he could: rebooting the central computer system after it freaked out, taking the shield generator offline so it could cool and recharge. But the ship’s diagnostic was showing an issue with both the sub-light engine and the hyperdrive; things that would require Sabine’s expertise. The sooner the better, too, with their attackers on the planet with them somewhere. Neither the ship’s sensors nor the Force had warned of anyone approaching, but Ezra was wary. Experience told him that if they didn’t leave soon, they’d run into trouble again.

“Ezra?”

It had been unnervingly quiet; he jumped when she called out to him, even as soft as her voice was. His eyes stung with tears and he choked on a sob. Sabine was conscious—the relief was overwhelming. “I’m here,” he answered thickly. He wasted no time moving to the makeshift med-bay, running as fast as his own sore body would allow, but slowing to a casual jog when he reached the door, not wanting her to pick up on his anxiety. He saw that Sabine hadn’t tried to sit up yet, but she gave him a wan smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Ezra tried to act like he hadn’t been through the emotional wringer, but two words were about all he could manage without breaking down. He eased onto the side of the bed, taking Sabine’s hand. He curled his fingers loosely around her wrist, feeling her pulse beneath his fingertips, sure and strong.

“We’re not dead,” she sighed. It was as much a relieved statement as it was a gentle reminder to Ezra that she was here, she was fine, and they needed to start figuring out how to improve their current situation. She cleared her throat.  “How’d we pull that off?”

He frowned. “You don’t remember?”

“I remember the first round of shots and I remember…” She squinted, searching her memory. “I remember thinking I could use the cloud-cover to lose whoever was on our tail.” She glanced outside. “Did it work?”

“For now,” he answered tightly. “But you pulled off some real Hera-style stunts when you realized we were going to crash." He cupped her cheek in his hand. “You were incredible.”

Her nose scrunched. “If I was incredible, we wouldn’t have—had an exciting landing.” She shifted on the bunk, wincing. Her eyes were dull, denoting a substantial headache. She touched a hand to her forehead self-consciously, fingers skimming over an angry-looking gash. “I’ll have to cut bangs just to cover this up,” she groaned.

“I think you should leave it. Makes you look tough.” She gave him a half-hearted smile and he folded his arms over his chest, studying her. “What else hurts?”

“I don’t know yet. Help me sit up?” With a supporting hand on her back, Ezra eased Sabine to a sitting position. A gasp and a pained moan escaped her lips as she tried to relax. “Everything,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “Anywhere the restraints were touching me _really hurts._ ”

Ezra swallowed panic. She’d almost certainly suffered some kind of blunt force injury. If she was bleeding internally… “I bet you have some nasty bruising.” He kept his voice as even as he could. “We need to check that out.”

She didn’t argue. “I doubt I can lift my arms to get this shirt off,” she admitted.

“Thank the Force for scissors,” he retorted, deadpan. He dug in their supplies until he found some bandage scissors, and he used them to make two top-to-bottom cuts in Sabine’s shirt, peeling it off her with ease. He stopped cold when he saw her torso, already stained and mottled with dark bruises. The shape of the restraint harness was clearly imprinted across her collarbones, chest and ribs. Ezra didn’t do as good a job keeping the horror and concern off his face as he thought he did.

Sabine flushed and turned her head away. “Not exactly how a girl wants to be looked at,” she mumbled, sounding close to tears.

“Yeah, well.” Ezra cleared his throat. “You could have died. Seeing you all beat up isn’t exactly a turn on.”

She sighed. “ _Cyar’ika.”_  They didn’t say anything else as he gently prodded her, checking for signs of broken ribs and internal bleeding. When he determined that the bruises were normal, he retrieved one of his own shirts from their cabin, helping her put it on.

“Try not to get paint on this one,” he teased.

She gave him a fake glare. “Jerk.” He sat beside her on the bunk and she gave him a sidelong glance. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Sore and rattled,” he said, “but not hurt.”

“There’s one thing that’s gone right about today.” Sabine stood slowly, holding her ribs and waving Ezra away when he started to hover. “How’s the ship? Given that we’re still on the ground, I’m guessing we’ve got problems?”

“We’ve got problems,” he confirmed. He let her walk on her own, but stayed as close as he could. “Sub-light engine and hyperdrive both got damaged. I think they can be fixed, but not by me.”

Sabine started walking toward the engine compartment, swaying just slightly. As hard as she’d hit her head, Ezra was well able to imagine she felt like the ground was pitching and rolling beneath her feet. She stopped as she reached for the door panel, orienting herself with the controls. When the door slid open, Ezra and Sabine groaned in unison.

Lights were flickering, warning indicators going berserk, and steam and smoke were heavy in the air. Sabine swore, picking her way through the narrow room. “We’ll have to do this together,” she said with a frown. She crouched by the breaker box, suppressing a pained sound as she wrapped an arm around her ribs. She looked up at Ezra. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but—" She flicked her gaze away from his, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I don’t think I can lift the panels or—"

He saw vulnerability and a trace of fear in her eyes. He got down beside her and carefully pulled her close. “Together,” he said.

* * *

Thankfully, all that was needed to fix the sub-light engines was a system reboot. Getting the hyperdrive working properly again was a different story. It took four hours, but the repairs were nearly done now. Under Sabine’s expert guidance, the hyperdrive field guides on both wings had been reset, the ion exciters replaced, and the only task remaining was to replace the shunting circuitry in three places. Two of them Sabine had been able to fix herself. It was up to Ezra to do the last.

“You should see a large grey Y-splitter connection point just ahead of you.” Sabine shouted as loud as her bruised lungs allowed. Ezra was directly above her in the engineering crawlspace that divided the two wing sections of the kom’rk fighter.

“I can’t—wait…no, I think I found it!” Ezra replied, his muffled voice emanating from the open panel above her. “Is it this thing with the red blinky lights?”

 _“‘Red blinky lights?’”_ Sabine was astonished he’d survived five years alone in deep space with apparently a child’s understanding of starship repair.  “Wait, does it have any writing on it?” She pinched the bridge of her nose and fought to keep her voice even. Impatience would not speed up this process.

There was a defeated silence. “Hold on.” The ceiling above creaked as he repositioned. Several more moments passed while Ezra shuffled about in the cramp tunnel. Sabine set her datapad down and took a small sip of water. Her throat was scratchy and her chest still hurt to breathe too deeply, but some mild painkillers had gone a long way toward making her feel less like she’d been in a crash.

“Hey, I think I can read something!” Ezra called triumphantly.

Thank the Force. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Ezra, I _swear_ —what does it say?” she shouted back, wishing for the first time in her life that it was her who got tasked with crawling through a duct while Ezra waited outside. Oh, how things had changed.

“Oh, yeah! Right...ummm...it says...MM-PRM-HPYD...SHUNT-001A02-9." Ezra said, confirming her hopes. He had found the right component.

“Alright, I’ll talk you through the steps. Make sure you do this _exactly_ as I say, got it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She closed her eyes, picturing the components. “First, flip the large switch on top and wait for the ‘blinky lights’ to turn off. Then connect that cable you have to the port on the front. After the lights are totally off. I can’t stress that enough.”

After an eternity, Ezra called down to her. “Alright...the lights are off and the cable is connected. Now what?”

“There should be two buttons on each side of the box. You have to hold all four of them down and then flip that switch on top back to where it was while _still_ holding them all down. You’ll have to use your nose or something. Keep holding both pairs of buttons down until the lights come back on. They should be green.”

“Use my nose? Wait, never mind. I got it.” He sounded smug.

Sabine waited. Seconds turned to minutes. She took another sip of water and began picking at the dried blood in her fingernails, the dim emergency lights her only source of illumination. At long last, she felt a deep thrum from the bowels of the ship and sensed the vibrations coming up beneath her. One by one, clear crisp white lights came to life in the hallway.

“I got it!” Ezra shouted with glee, dropping to the ground in front of her a moment later.

“And on the first try.” Sabine smiled warmly, and it was only a little condescending. “We’ll make an engineer out of you yet. How did you flip the switch, by the way?”

“A Jedi never reveals his secrets.” Ezra winked, reaching for her canteen and taking a long drink. “You feeling well enough to help me finish up?”

“I think I’ll manage. I _did_ get you to do all the real work.” She stood, taking his offered hand and leaned against him.

He kissed the top of her head and sighed, relaxing for the first time in hours. “We’re almost out of this.”

“Mm.” Sabine didn’t want to jinx the rest of their day by agreeing to eagerly. “It’s going to take a few minutes for everything to boot up. When we’re done, wanna sit outside for a bit? I’ve had enough of this recycled air.” 

“I’d love to.”

* * *

As they put the last of the tools away, Sabine looked at Ezra, confused, and said, "You never did tell me where we were going."

He froze. "Oh." He started walking toward the back of the ship, lowering the ramp. He ducked out as soon as he could fit.

Weary to the bone and hurting, Sabine sat down at the base of the ramp as soon as it had lowered. She watched Ezra pretend to examine the ship's exterior. A smile tugged at her lips. "Ez?"

The planet's setting sun was in his eyes and he squinted as he turned to look at her. "We were...going to Naboo, to see that Alderaanian moss painting exhibit you were telling me—"

 _"Wait."_ She held up an interrupting hand. "The art you said looked like—and I quote—'moist, moldy lumps of shapeless tree fuzz?' _That_ exhibit?"

He smiled sheepishly and his cheeks tinged pink. "Well yeah, and there was something else I—"

"Ezra— _move!"_

She wasn't even aware that she'd seen anyone approaching through the fringe of desert brush, but instinct overrode conscious thought and Sabine was pulling at Ezra the exact moment a blaster bolt whizzed _too close to his head_ and he cried out either in surprise or fear or pain—she didn't know which.

But his hand found her waist and he was shoving her roughly, yelling, "Get inside!"

She didn't go. Her blasters were already in her grasp and she was back-to-back with him, firing at one of the eight dark-clad aliens rapidly closing on the _Gauntlet._ She heard Ezra's saber snap to life and the familiar hum flooded her with a sense of relief—and it made their attackers stop cold. The leader drew up short, his beady, reptilian eyes wide and glistening with fear. He began barking orders as they all murmured to each other in a foreign tongue. There was one word Sabine understood perfectly well:

_"Jedi!"_

She gripped her blasters tightly but took her index fingers off the triggers, watching, dumbstruck, as the hostile band backed up and made a show of holstering their weapons, half-bowing in a deferential gesture as they retreated.

Only when they were no longer in sight did Ezra extinguish his saber. "This thing comes in handier all the time," he said, dazed.

Sabine forced a laugh. "Yeah, good thing all that Jedi training paid off. I—" She stopped abruptly as she turned to look at him.

There was a blaster burn across the side of his neck, an angry, blistered swath of skin which was surely painful. Below it, a vein pulsing with each beat of his heart.

Millimeters.

 _Millimeters_ had come between Ezra and dying today, and what had they been doing when they were attacked the first time? Arguing. Arguing about nothing.

Not-quite-anger and not-quite-fear settled in the pit of her stomach and the sound of blood rushing in her ears was loud enough that she couldn't hear him say her name. He caught her by the elbow and she pulled out of his grasp, turning away. "I want to go home," she said stiffly.

Something sparked in Ezra's eyes and he grabbed her arm again, holding firm. "Don't do that—don't walk away like that."

Under any other circumstance, her temper would have been piqued by the sharpness of his tone. But today, Sabine looked at him with tears welling in her eyes and she holstered her blasters and she held her hands out to him. They were trembling. Her chest was tight, pain flaring, but that didn’t have anything to do with why she suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Ezra's expression softened. "We're okay," he said slowly. "Right?"

"We were attacked by pirates today and you got _shot_ ," she snapped. "We're _okay?_ "

He felt the burn on his neck, wincing. "It's just a graze. Not as bad as your concussion."

She shook her head, mouth moving silently, before words spilled out, pent up things she hadn't decided to say until she heard them. "I don't want this kind of thing anymore," she blurted. "The way things were when we were kids—fighting for our lives all the time. I've gotten used to _this_ life—this life where I get to wake up next to you every morning and the most dangerous thing we face every day is turning the caf maker on even though we _know_ it could short-circuit and catch fire at any moment. I—I don't want to go back to living on the edge. Those years were—" She stopped, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "They gave me you. But I don't want that life anymore."

There must have been something in the tone of her voice, because Ezra's eyes narrowed and he said, "You were having second thoughts about taking your teaching job back."

"Not anymore," she answered with a shudder. "Not after this—not after I realized how _fragile_ our lives are and—gods, Ezra—we're a karking good team, but I _never_ want to be in that situation with you again. I never want to stand beside you and know how easily I could lose you and—our future."

"C'mere." Ezra opened his arms and Sabine leaned in, letting him hold her. His skin was damp with sweat, his shirt sticking between his shoulder blades. "I was scared to death when you got hurt," he said roughly. She could feel his chest rumble as he spoke. “I’ve never been worried about you before. Not like that.”

There was a heavy pause and then Sabine said, “I don’t want to live the way Kanan and Hera did. Maybe if we hadn’t lost so much time…but I don’t want to take any chances. I want to settle down, Ezra. Right now.” She pulled out of his embrace, meeting his eyes. The intensity and depth of his gaze made her mouth run dry.

“I want to settle down, too, and I—I was taking you to Naboo to ask you to marry me,” he said softly. “I wanted to make it something sp—”

Sabine’s breath caught in her throat. “Ask me now,” she interrupted. “I don’t care if it’s something special. _This_ is special—us. Just ask me.”

He blinked once, twice, and then cupped her face in his hands. “Sabine,” he began, voice barely a whisper. “Marry me.”

“Yes.” The word was mumbled, nearly unintelligible with her mouth suddenly against his. “Yes.”


	20. Two Became One

Two Became One

_**7.5 Years Ago, 1.5 BBY** _

_He'd lost count of how many times she'd changed position in the last few hours. Instead, he was playing a game of "how long will she do this before she decides to talk to me about whatever the kriff it is?"_

_Kanan and Hera had been together nearly a decade and neither blindness nor darkness was enough to keep him ignorant of the fact that she had something on her mind._

" _Hera," he mumbled groggily at zero-three-thirty._ _ **"Stop."**_

_In the process of rolling over and yanking all the covers with her, she froze. "Did I wake you?"_

" _No." He scrubbed a hand over his face, sitting up against the bunk wall. "Waking is only for people who've actually been asleep."_

_Hera sighed contritely. "I'm sorry, love." She did her best to settle down, resting her head on his shoulder, reaching to wrap one arm around him, the way she always did when she was most in need of his reassurance. Kanan could feel tension in her shoulders._

_With a gentle touch, he stroked her lek. She stiffened at first, and then leaned into him. After several long, silent moments, he said, "Talk to me."_

" _I..." She stopped, tipping her head back to look at him. "You're going to think this is ridiculous."_

" _Lay it on me, Syndulla."_

_Again, Hera sighed. "I worry about the kids," she admitted quietly._

_Kanan's face scrunched in confusion. Of all things for her to be stewing about at three in the morning, he hadn't expected this. "Ezra and Sabine?" As if there were any other kids she could possibly be talking about. "Why?"_

" _You're_ _ **kidding**_ _. Come on."_

_Disgusted disbelief colored her tone and Kanan bit his tongue against the urge to ask what made her think he'd suddenly cultivated the ability to read her mind. "No, I'm not," he answered evenly._

" _Kanan." He didn't have to see her to know she was rolling her eyes. She sat up, tucking her legs under her as she turned to face him. "Surely you see it."_

* * *

Ezra often wondered what would have happened between him and Sabine if things…had gone differently that day with Thrawn. He'd spent a lot of time in Wild Space imagining an alternate past where he'd never disappeared with the Seventh Fleet, instead returning to Yavin and the Rebellion alongside his family. In every version of that alternate past, his friendship with Sabine developed into something more.

The fantasy wasn't completely unfounded; in the weeks they spent on Yavin Base before heading off to Lothal, he'd felt the Mandalorian's gaze lingering on him more than once. Her smile was warmer, he thought, than it had been before. Sometimes her hand brushed his as they walked together. He'd begun to harbor hope that  _maybe_ someday she'd see something in him—

And then they'd argue about something completely stupid and he'd find himself wanting to wring her neck instead of kiss her like he'd been longing to for years.

"I don't know what she wants from me," he'd blurted in frustration one afternoon years before. He was in the  _Ghost's_ cockpit with Hera, helping with system maintenance and updates.

The Twi'lek spared only a glance. "Sounded to me like she wanted you to sign off on inventory logs—days ago—and you didn't."

"That's not what—" He got almost all the way through that sentence before he realized Hera was very determinedly playing coy. "Never mind," he muttered.

Hera sighed then, swiveling in her seat to face him. He remembered thinking at the time how tired she looked; pale, almost, and preoccupied. Now, years later, he understood why, and he understood why her eyes followed Kanan—who was outside with Zeb—as she spoke. "I think," she'd said slowly, "it's not—it's not about what she wants  _from_ you. If I had to guess? She's trying to figure out what she wants  _with_ you."

Ezra balked, mouth wide open, and his heart did a flip. "For real? You think so?"

"If I had to guess," Hera repeated evenly. It was code for:  _That's pretty much what Sabine told me_ , but the subtlety of the statement was lost on Ezra, perhaps for the better.

"So—what do I do?"

Hera considered for a moment, then she reached forward to squeeze his hand. "Nothing," she answered. "Just keep being you. That's enough."

He worried that it wasn't.

He worried—both then and now—that someday, somehow, in some way, he'd fail Sabine.

* * *

_The spark between Ezra and Sabine should have been painfully obvious, Hera thought; that tension and uncertainty, that total trust and friendship was so similar to what she and Kanan had shared in those early days. Back then, they'd both been too scared to define the thing between them. Hera was the only one still scared now. She swallowed against a wave of emotion._

_She'd failed Kanan._ Over _and over, for years and years. She_ _ **was**_ _failing him, she knew, every day that she didn't tell him about the child she was carrying._

_Soon, she thought. After the strike on Lothal. They could make plans then._

* * *

It scared Ezra to know that Sabine was about to become his wife, that they were about to pledge eternity to one another, and that there were an infinite number of ways in which he could fail to provide for her, to make her happy, to open his heart to her.

The night before their wedding, he watched her sleep, but the steady rise and fall of her chest wasn't comforting. Neither was the peaceful expression on her face. Was she  _sure?_ He wondered. Was she really  _sure,_ after the half-decade they spent apart, thatshe wanted this—that she wanted  _him?_

He managed a few hours of fitful sleep and Sabine was gone when he woke, her side of the bed no longer warm. But there was a slip of paper on her pillow with a message scrawled:

_I saw that crease between your eyes while you were sleeping—you know, the one that's there when you're worried about something? You'd better not be getting cold feet on me, Bridger. I've been waiting for this since the day you left Lothal, so you'd better not kark it up._

_I love you._

At that moment, Sabine walked in, cheeks flushed and eyes bright from a run outside, and she grinned at him as she turned into the 'fresher. "Our appointment this evening still stands?" She asked breezily.

"I'll be there," he said, grinning right back. And just like that, all of his fears vanished.

* * *

_Kanan was preoccupied thinking about Ezra and Sabine; he didn't notice how Hera, just for a moment, rested her hand on the barely-there curve below her navel._

_He made a sound that was half-grumble, half-sigh. "Yeah, I see it." He sat up straighter, running a hand through his hair. "If I've told Ezra once, I've told him a thousand times to_ _**quit** _ _—"_

" _It's not just Ezra," Hera interrupted. "Sabine…something's changed there."_

_Kanan's eyes widened. "You think so?"_

" _Uh, yes."_

" _How do you know?"_

* * *

Ursa wasn't angry—in fact, she said several complimentary and congratulatory things—but it was made clear that by choosing to marry Ezra, who did not intend to fully adopt Mandalorian culture, Sabine was closing the door on any future status or influence she might have held with Clan Wren.

Sabine didn't care.

As far as she was concerned, she'd given up her position at her mother's successor the moment she gave the darksaber to Bo Katan. It had just taken Ursa seven years and the news of her daughter's engagement to see things the same way. Truth be told, Sabine didn't even see herself as entirely Mandalorian anymore.

On the morning of her wedding day, she stood in the 'fresher, studying her naked reflection in the mirror. She saw her arms and face tanned by years spent beneath Lothal's sun instead of pale from seeking refuge indoors from Krownest's cold. On her hip, the faded and jagged scar left by a blaster wound, earned during one of her and Ketsu's bounty hunting jobs gone bad. On her knee, the evidence of a nasty fall because she'd tripped over then-toddler Jacen. A faint, white scar crossed one palm, the only remaining trace of an electrical burn she'd gotten in the turret of the  _Ghost_  when a TIE fighter landed a lucky shot and shorted out her controls. Odd patches of bruising still dotted her chest and the gash on her forehead, well-concealed by bangs, was still healing even though weeks had passed since she and Ezra crashed after the pirate attack.

Her body told a story that was hers alone; it had not been written by Mandalore or Clan Wren.

As she bathed, she paid attention to the curves and contours of her shoulders, chest, waist, hips. She shivered even though the water was hot, acutely aware that after tonight, Ezra would have an intimate knowledge of every part of her. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. There was no one else in the galaxy with whom she wanted to share that kind of closeness, to bare both her body and soul.

But there had always been something in her that whispered,  _If no one ever really knows you, you can't hurt them—and they can't hurt you._

* * *

 _Hera reached for the light panel by her bunk, squinting against the sudden brightness. She folded her arms defensively. "What do you mean 'how do I know?' It's like watching_ _**us** _ _, but ten years ago."_

" _I hope that's not the case," Kanan deadpanned, "because as I recall—"_

" _Yes, I know what you recall," she interrupted sourly. "That's not what I'm talking about."_

" _Yeah." He sighed. "You know, part of me is happy for them."_

" _Mm." Hera studied his face, trying to read it. "And the other part?"_

_Kanan hesitated. "There's...a lot of potential there for—"_

" _Pain," she finished quietly. "I know."_

* * *

For years, Sabine's strategy regarding relationships of any kind had been to keep one foot out the door, keep any and everyone at arm's length. That started to change when she joined the Spectres; even so, she managed to keep from getting  _too_ close to anyone. It wasn't that she didn't trust Kanan and Hera and Zeb. She did—but then, she'd trusted the Empire and her clan and Ketsu, too.  _That_ had all turned out wonderfully well. Fool me once, she thought, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Then Ezra came along.

And he was either oblivious or pigheaded enough that he failed to notice the ten thousand walls she put up. He just… _kept on and on and on_  until one day, Sabine woke up realizing he was her best friend and he knew her better than anyone ever had. It frightened her, even then.

She'd masked that fear with anger and irritation at times.

"Are you clueless on purpose, or does it just come naturally?" She'd snapped at him, shoving a datapad at him one day on Yavin Base. "I needed this inventory finished  _a week ago._ Now, AP-5 is going to put  _my_ head on a stake because—"

He thought a grin would disarm her. "I got this, Sabine."

She hated that it almost worked, and she  _hated_ that she was letting her gaze linger on his stupid mouth. Why. The. Kriff.

"Oh, my bad." Her glare was blistering. She shoved a data pad at him and turned on her heel. " _You got this._ Why did I even bother worrying?"

As she walked away, she could just about hear his mouth falling open. "Wait!" He called incredulously. "You're serious? Sabine,  _wait!_ You're actually mad?"

She didn't turn around and she didn't answer him.

She was annoyed with Ezra over the inventory log; she was mad at herself for…the strange way her stomach flip-flopped when she was around him these days.

And then she was mad at Kanan for trying to Jedi his way into getting her to talk about it.

He passed her on his way back to the  _Ghost_ and the movement of his brows told her he'd picked up on her mood immediately. If he hadn't been wearing his mask, she would have wondered if he was even actually blind. He touched her elbow as she tried to walk around him, stopping her. "Hey, you good?"

A simple  _yes, thanks_ would have ended the conversation before it even started, but Sabine realized that only a split-second too late. "Fine," she snapped. "I'm great. The sun is shining, I heard kriffing birds singing in the forest, Ezra is trying to drive me into an early grave because he thinks it's hilarious to—"

"Wait," Kanan interrupted patiently. "Breathe. You're not mad at me, remember?"

Sabine huffed a sigh. "I'm not mad at all," she groused. "I just—" Her gaze flicked toward the  _Ghost_ and Ezra. "Never mind."

"You two having problems?"

Sabine's face flushed and her pulse spiked when Kanan referred to her and Ezra jointly. She didn't dislike it. "No," she said quickly. "Just—he karked up inventory and I ripped his head off over it."

Kanan gave a low whistle. "AP-5 is gonna kill you."

Sabine glared. "Thanks."

She managed to take half a step around the blind Jedi before he said, "He wouldn't do anything to tick you off on purpose, you know. Not like that."

"I know." She sighed; more and more she saw a look in Ezra's eyes which told her he'd do anything for her, if only she asked. "Yeah, I know."

The smallest frown pulled at the corners of Kanan's mouth. "So be careful with that."

She made a non-committal sound and finally made a clean getaway from Kanan.

_So be careful with that._

It was a loaded statement and she knew exactly what he meant: Be careful with Ezra's heart.

Not a problem, she thought. Because being careful with Ezra's heart was a task very intimately tied up with taking care of her own, and  _that_ was a task she knew she could do all too well. Be careful with Ezra's heart?

"Don't have to be careful if you don't get involved," she muttered to herself.

* * *

_Kanan shifted uncomfortably. "Do you think we should…talk to them about it or something?"_

" _No!" Hera was scandalized by the idea. "It's not our business. They're not kids anymore."_

_Kids._

_Her heart ached. Her throat was tight._

" _Hey," Kanan said gently, taking her hand. "Don't go getting all weepy on me."_

_She realized how strained and raw her last words had been. She laughed lamely. "Do you think they'll figure it out with each other?"_

_He couldn't see her face, but she knew he could see into her soul. "Might take a few years, but they'll get there."_

* * *

Sabine's hair had grown out to the length it had been before the war, cut in the angular bob she liked, just shy of brushing her collarbones. She decided to curl it and pull the sides back, showcasing her eyes and cheekbones. It was far more feminine and formal than anything she'd ever done.

Ezra was sure to lose his mind.

Sabine's lips turned in a sly smile as she swiped on a sheer lipstick. There had been a time where she didn't want to get involved with Ezra at all, let alone fall in love with and marry him. She'd wanted to protect herself-and him—from the kind of pain she thought inevitable. Kanan, with both experience and wisdom on his side, had known. And his advice had been simple.

She remembered how his sightless gaze seemed to be full of compassion and understanding when he'd said,  _Be careful._

"I promise," she whispered. Her heart flipped—it was time to go say those words to her beloved. She took one last look in the mirror, smoothing her hands over the dress she'd bought for the occasion. It felt foreign, but she was pleased with the effect. Head held high and heart bursting with excitement, she left the tower and walked to the place she and Ezra were meeting.

The end of summer on Lothal brought cooler evening temperatures and an autumn wind which bent the grass on the sprawling plains, creating a golden ripple as far as the eye could see. Sabine kept having to brush her bangs out of her eyes and the gauzy fabric of her dress kept wrapping around her legs. She shivered, but it didn't have anything to do with the chill of the breeze.

She was standing here, silhouetted against the dusk sky, waiting to become Ezra Bridger's wife.

His  _wife._

Her mouth parted in a radiant smile as realization washed over her. Here, today, right now, she was a bride.  _Ezra's bride_ and they were about to speak the most sacred of all Mandalorian vows and be married. Husband and wife. One heart, one flesh. A binding, eternal, sacred commitment. A few short years ago, the very thought would have filled her with dread, but her heart was racing now with anticipation, excitement, and desire as she saw Ezra walking toward her.

He'd dressed up, just as she had, sporting a fitted, dark grey shirt and black trousers. He'd rolled his sleeves up to his forearms; a particular favorite thing of Sabine's. He looked tall and handsome and when he grinned at her, she noticed how his eyes—beautiful and bluer than ever—crinkled ever so slightly at the corners.

She held out her hand to him and he took it, bending to kiss her quickly. He fingered the simple beading on her cap sleeve. "I like this," he said as he withdrew. His smile was almost a smirk. "You wore orange just for me?"

She tossed her head and she noticed how his gaze was on the bounce of her curls . "This is not  _orange_ , Ezra," she retorted primly. "It's a deep shade of coral—"

"Are we here for an art lesson or are you going to marry me?" He leaned close.

Her breath caught. "Are you ready?"

"Sabine." He lifted her chin so that she had nowhere to look but into his eyes. "I've  _been_ ready for ten years."

"Okay. Okay." She took a deep breath. "What do you want to do first?"

"I…" His gaze traveled up and down her body, lingering on her mouth, and it took him a moment to process the question. "Let's do the rings."

They'd waited until the end of summer to get married; Sabine had broadly hinted she didn't want a honeymoon with him while the bruises from the crash were still fresh and painful to the touch. In the meantime, they carried on with their lives as normally as they could knowing they were preparing for a future in which they'd never be parted. As they talked about what they wanted their wedding ceremony to be like, they decided that it should reflect both his heritage and hers. They were going to speak Mandalorian wedding vows and exchange simple rings, as per Lothalian tradition.

Ezra fished in his pocket and pulled out two gold bands, holding them in his palm. He took the smaller one and held Sabine's left hand, sliding the band onto her ring finger. She laughed, overcome by joy, and Ezra cleared his throat, mock-annoyed. "Are you gonna let me do this, or…?"

She bowed her head contritely, biting down a smile. "Go ahead."

He pretended to glare at her and then he squared his shoulders and his expression became steadfast. "Sabine Wren," he began slowly, "with this ring, I give you my heart. I promise from this day forward, you shall not walk alone. May my heart be your shelter and my arms be your home."

Sabine took the other ring and slipped it onto Ezra's finger. Then she turned his hand upward, tracing soft circles on his palm with her fingertips as she spoke. He leaned closer to her. "Ezra Bridger, with this ring, I give you my heart. I promise from this day forward, you shall not walk alone. May my heart be your shelter and my arms be your home."

For the space of several seconds, they stood silently, lost in each other.

Then Sabine joined hands with him. "Are you sure you know this next part, Jedi?"

He smiled slyly. "Try me."

"Repeat after me, then."

He nodded.

" _Mhi solus tome."_  Her native language fell from her tongue, song-like.

" _Mhi solus tome."_

We are one when we are together.

" _Mhi solus dar'tome."_

" _Mhi solus dar'tome."_

We are one when we are apart.

" _Mhi me'dinui an."_

" _Mhi me'dinui an."_

We will share all.

" _Mhi ba'juri verde."_

" _Mhi ba'juri verde."_

We will raise warriors.

Ezra repeated the Mando'a phrases flawlessly. When he spoke the last syllable, he took Sabine's face in his hands, bending to kiss her. She thought about telling him that's not how Mandalorian wedding ceremonies are concluded, but she decided it could wait; she was his wife now and they had forever, after all.

* * *

_There was an ache in Hera's chest. "Do you think they'll be okay?"_

_Kanan held her tightly. "Yeah, they'll be okay."_

" _How do you know?"_

_There was a heavy pause and then Kanan smiled—a bit sadly, Hera thought. "What do you mean 'how do I know?'" He echoed her own words, but there was no teasing. If anything, it was a soft admonition. "Because he loves her. I think he always has."_

_He was blind and she still couldn't meet his gaze. "If I had to guess…" Hera's voice trembled. "I'd say she's always loved him, too."_

" _Yeah?"_

_Oh, how she hated the uncertainty in his voice._

_She blinked against tears and leaned forward to turn out the lights. She lay down and Kanan followed suit. She wove her arms around his neck, holding him so close she could feel his heartbeat. "Yeah."_

* * *

The first stars were showing as Ezra and Sabine walked hand in hand back to the tower. When the stepped in the lift, Sabine noticed how their wedding bands glinted in the light. "We really got married," she whispered in awe. She looked up at him. "The day I met you, if someone had told me  _this_ was in the future for us, I'd have said they were lying—and then punched them in the nose."

He grinned. "What would you say now?"

The lift came to a stop and the door opened. She turned around, leading Ezra through their home. She stopped in the doorway of their bedroom, looking up at him. A flush stained her cheeks; for the first time in her life, she felt shy. "I don't—really wanna say anything, Ezra."

It took a second for him to understand, but when he did, his hands found her waist and he backed her up against the doorframe, kissing her deeply until her fingers tangled in his hair and there was no space left between their bodies.

* * *

**Hosnian Prime, two days later**

"Mama, are you okay?"

The sheer, wild panic in Jacen's voice was enough to jolt Hera away from the message she'd just read. "Yes, love," she answered quickly. She realized she'd gasped. And dropped her mug of caf on the floor, having missed the tabletop completely. Her voice was watery and her eyes streaming.

Jacen was bewildered. He could likely count on one hand the number of times he'd seen his mother cry. "Mama?" He prompted.

"I..." She smeared tears from her cheeks, laughing at herself as she set her datapad down. "I just got some good news and guess what?"

"What?"

Hera's heart sang.  _They made it, they made it, they made it._ "Sabine and Ezra got married."

Two angular brows pulled together, and suddenly she was looking at one of Kanan's famous nonplussed,  _so what?_ expressions. "That's cool, I guess," Jacen said, clearly skeptical. He turned on his heel, eyeing the mess of his mother's caf on the floor, and scampered away lest he get roped into helping with the cleanup.

"Yeah," she laughed, ruffling her son's hair as he passed her. "It's cool." Joy welled deep within Hera's heart. There hadn't been a happy ending for her and Kanan; they'd both known there couldn't be. But through all the years of war, separation, and uncertainty, through the last long months that the two young lovers had spent getting reacquainted with one another, Hera had hoped Ezra and Sabine would find their way.

Fresh tears spilled over. She closed her eyes and for a flicker of a second, she felt the warmth of a familiar hand on her shoulder. "You were right, love," she whispered. "They're okay."


End file.
